Severus Snape's Secret Lover
by richfamous
Summary: It's what it sounds like, people! Rated T to be on the safe side because I get a sense of pleasure out of embarrassing people. If I owned Harry Potter (which I don't) Harry would be a girl, Dumbledore, Tonks and Remus would never have died and McGonagall would have an army of cats. But Eowyn Gondolin is mine! ALL MINE! *cackles maliciously*
1. Eowyn Gondolin

Secret Lovers – 1995

It really was endearing how he would fall asleep with his arm wrapped around her waist and his head resting on her shoulder and she appreciated the gesture, but it made extricating herself from his arms without waking him a very difficult process indeed. And it was four o'clock in the flipping morning for crying out loud, now was not the time to wake him!

"And you're not a morning person as it is, Severus," she murmured with a smile as she began to tug at his long fingers, trying to pull them away from the smooth skin of her stomach. Even in his sleep he responded to her voice, the fingers clenching slightly and moving his head so that it rested more firmly against her neck. Great, getting out of the bed without incident was going to be even harder! Her and her big Irish mouth!

Sometime later Eowyn slid from the bed, groping to find her chemise and nightgown that she had worn in the brief trip to his rooms. Why was it that they always ended up fifteen metres from the bed when she was fairly sure they'd all come off just on it? Oh well. She finally found them and pulled them on, tying the knot on her dressing gown securely. She turned at a slight sound and realised that it was Severus, his hand running over the rumpled sheets, looking for the now familiar weight and heat that was not there.

 _Even in his sleep … even in his sleep he still misses me._

Smiling foolishly, Eowyn tiptoed over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before tiptoeing out of his bedroom and into his lounge.

Contrary to popular belief, Severus Snape's office was not decorated with the preserved heads of his enemies floating in brandy or grinning selfies of him and Lord Voldemort, as Eowyn had heard some of the Muggleborns speculating. No. Rather it was lined with books, books and more books. More than a few old tomes which she had spent hours searching for in her schooldays had been found on his shelves. Two chairs sat by the fire with a table between them, on which sat their hot chocolate (Severus hated coffee) and the books they had been reading before … Eowyn could feel a faint pink flush creeping up her neck and hastily diverted herself from that line of thought. If Peeves or Filch was patrolling the halls it would need to look as though she had been doing nothing less incriminating than stealing food from the kitchen. (Which, for the record, was quite believable, seeing as she'd been doing it since first year.)

Remembering what they had been discussing earlier in the evening, she found one of his pens and wrote down a note on a spare slip of paper.

If Ravenclaw beat Slytherin in the next match, you have to mark all my fourth and sixth years' homework for a week.

E.G.

There, she thought with a smile, before picking up her wand, walking to the door and opening it cautiously, glancing around to make sure that no one was about. If anyone saw the Care of Magical Creatures teacher creeping out of the Potions Master's rooms the world would likely go up in flames. She smiled drily at the images that went through her head. _Hidden Love Affair at Hogwarts_ , _Severus Snape: Capable of Love or Merely Lust?_

Eowyn snorted at that last thought, no doubt inspired by a conversation she had overheard from her fifth years. Little did they know he was well and truly capable of both.

Then she heard a noise. She spun around, wand pointing in the direction from which it had come. It couldn't be Severus, she would have heard the door open. Mrs Norris? No, the cat never made a sound and was one of her best friends for life. Mr Filch? No, he made more noise than that. And after all, he hated this particular section of the dungeons. _And Severus to boot._

"BOO!"

Auriga Sinistra, Septima Vector and Charity Burbage leapt out of the dark, fairly blinding their friend with their Lumos charms.

* * *

Yes, one chapter done! All reviews are appreciated and if anyone has any wonderful ideas please let me know! I'll be updating fairly regularly so keep on the lookout and yes I do intend to finish this fic. The date that comes with the title of every chapter is necessary since there'll be a bit of jumping around time periods. Now click that review button and let me know what you think! (I own nothing! Nothing!) And yes, you smart alecs will have realised that Eowyn is named after a Lord of the Rings character and an Elven city. Well done. I also happen to be a Lord of the Rings fan.


	2. Discovered

Discovered – 1995

They had been waiting for her behind the corner, watching the door in the hope that she would come out. The truth was that they had suspected for a long time that something was going on between their friend and the Potions Master. It wasn't obvious. But it was there. The walks that they would take out on their own in the afternoons. Always sitting next to each other in the staffroom. Strange glances exchanged at the staff meets. Out of place smiles. A touch on the shoulder, elbow or, when they thought no one was looking, wrist.

And the truth was that no one was looking. Everyone had long ago accepted that Severus Snape had about as much love in him as there was water in the Sahara Desert and that Eowyn Gondolin was far too young and carefree for him. Little did they know that she was only two years younger than him.

It had actually been Minerva McGonagall who, being far older and more mature and practically Eowyn's mother, had noticed something strange and given them the heads up. From then on they had been monitoring Eowyn constantly with a little bit of help from Rolanda Hooch who, having much more free time and a much more energetic spirit than most, was happy to help.

Every night for the last week they had been watching Severus' door intently. For three days that week Eowyn had come down to his room. But she had always left no later than ten o'clock and looked immaculate. Well, as immaculate as anyone could look with the amount of staying power that her hair had. But tonight …

… Tonight she had come out at four o'clock in the flipping morning in her nightclothes with a warm flush in her cheeks and her blonde tinted brown hair looking as though it had been nested in by a particularly vicious bird of prey.

They didn't even need to look at each other. They all leapt out at the same time shouting "BOO!" at the top of their lungs.

Eowyn instantly leapt back, wand at the ready, auror training kicking in. Then, realising who they were, she dropped her wand and her head, but not before they caught her cheeks going sunset scarlet.

"Well," said Charity, brown eyes twinkling as though she was twelve again, "look who's out after light's out."

"In a nightdress that is …" Auriga poked the edge of Eowyn's nightgown to one side, "barely knee length." She raised an eyebrow. "Someone's going for risqué."

"It … it's not what it looks like," stuttered Eowyn, slapping Auriga's hand away.

"It's jolly well what it looks like, Winnie!" scoffed Septima, giving Eowyn a slap on the back. "And what it looks like is a pretty active affair!"

"Please, Tima, keep your voice down!" Eowyn pleaded.

"No, Septima," said Auriga, her white toothed grin glowing in her dark skinned face, "it's not only an active affair … it's a clandestine one."

"Quit the long words," said Charity, giving Auriga a shove. "My brain doesn't work to well at –"

"Four o'clock in the morning," said Septima, grinning evilly at Eowyn. "So his bed's that comfortable?"

There was so much blood rushing to Eowyn's face it was a miracle her body could function properly at all. "Alright, I admit it," she hissed.

"Admit what?" asked Auriga.

"What you say is happening is happening," said Eowyn, head in hands.

"What's happening?" asked Auriga, feigning innocence.

Glaring at her friend, Eowyn sighed. "You really want me to say it don't you?"

"Yep," said Charity.

"Fine. I, Eowyn Tauriel Gondolin, am involved in a romantic relationship with Severus Snape (no he doesn't have a middle name, Septima) which, before you force it out of me, Auriga, does incorporate sex. Happy? Or do I need to call my lawyer?"

"You get that recorded, Charity?" asked Auriga, relishing the panicked gleam that came into Eowyn's dark blue eyes.

"What do you mean record?" Charity asked, blinking owlishly up at her taller friend. Eowyn sighed with relief, hand on her heart.

"Please don't tell anyone," Eowyn whispered. "If Umbridge found out …"

"She'd fire you both in a heartbeat," agreed Septima.

"Of what heart?" Eowyn asked.

"We won't tell a soul," said Charity, eager to comfort her friend.

"Apart from Minerva and Rolanda," said Auriga with a grin.

"You mean Minerva's in on this too?" Eowyn gasped, eyes well and truly wide now.

"Mhm!" said Septima with a smile. "She was the one who suspected it in the first place."

"After all," said Charity, "you've practically been her daughter for the last … twenty-two years of her life."

"You won't tell anyone else?" said Eowyn. "No letters to family or anything. If Umbridge finds out she'll have our hides."

"Professor Umbridge, you mean," said Auriga, mimicking Minerva's tone. Her friends rolled their eyes.

"She's just lucky we don't call her something even less complimentary," said Charity. "Like 'the Toad'."

"I'm afraid some second years have already copyrighted that," said Auriga.

"As I recall you gave them ten points each for imagination," said Septima with a smile.

"Why my dear Professor Vector, I have no idea what on earth you are insinuating!" said Auriga, practically radiating fake shock.

So they continued up the flights of stairs until they reached the entrance hall, chatting and laughing and shoving each other like children as they flung barbs at each other, their students, their headmistress and yes, You-Know-Who himself (a.k.a. Snake-Face). It was only when Eowyn finally hugged them all goodnight and began to make her way down to her cottage down in the grounds that she heard Auriga singing away in the background.

"Eowyn and Severus, sitting in a tree, having S-E-X and –"

"For the love of Merlin, Auriga!" she heard Septima exclaim. "Keep your voice down before everyone in the school starts battening down the hatches for fear of procreation!"

And somehow Charity managed to choke through hiccups of laughter, "Can you imagine? Winnie's hair and his nose! Ha! The poor little dear!"

"Shut up before I remember my auror training and unleash a Hungarian Horntail on you!" Eowyn yelled up the stairs, face pink.

"Since when did aurors do that?" asked Charity from above her.

"Since Mad-Eye decided that Vladimir the Vicious could do with a taste of his own medicine," Eowyn called.

"Oh, so now I know why you're so bonkers! You trained under Sir Constant-Vigilance himself! I keep forgetting that!"


	3. Midnight Outings

Staff Meeting – 1995

Rolling her eyes, Eowyn strode off into the night, grateful for the cold night air on her flushed cheeks. They were her best friends for life but by Merlin's beard they could be annoying! And embarrassing too! Oh well, at least Severus didn't wake up. He'd probably have hexed them for even saying the s-word.

As she finally collapsed into her bed Eowyn sighed, groaning as she stretched her back. Then she remembered that she had Twinkle and previously mentioned Hungarian Horntail to feed. Twinkle the niffler was easy enough and was quite happy to sleep in a box stuffed with cotton wool. But the Hungarian Horntail (Spike as Hagrid had christened him) was no such easy task. Since he was not legally here and it would not do for Hagrid to get in even more trouble than he already was Spike was kept in the woods, under the watchful eyes of a few of her centaur friends. Moaning, Eowyn dragged herself back out of bed and stumbled over to Twinkle's box. He was wide awake, dark, chocolatey eyes staring up at her with all the adoration and innocence of a baby.

Thinking of babies brought back what Charity had said to her. The truth was it was Severus' darkest fear that any child she would bear would have his nose. He had literally had nightmares about it. Smiling, she picked up Twinkle's favourite food, mushrooms, and began cutting it into pieces with a knife, before feeding them slowly to him, piece by piece. Twinkle gobbled them up greedily, before collapsing down into the cotton wool with a snort of satisfaction and making that strange chirping noise that was his happy sound.

After slowly stroking Twinkle to sleep, Eowyn rose to her feet and walked to the door, marching out to where she kept a store full of food for her charges. Finding the carcass of a cow wrapped up she muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa," and so 'carried' Spike's dinner off into the dark forest.

The creatures of the forest were used to her presence. Even the spiders, Aragog's many children, did not try to harm her. They had learned their lesson on that score long ago. They scuttled along the beams of trees, swinging on moonlight pale threads, eight eyes glittering and legs making rattling noises on the bark of the trees. Once Eowyn would have been afraid of them. Now she had learned that if you fear something you give it the ability to hurt you.

Selene, the female centaur who was in charge of the group guarding Spike, was relieved to see her. "He's getting fidgety," she murmured. "And the spiders are getting worried."

"Tell them all will be well," said Eowyn. "I've got everything under control. And if they don't calm down I'll tell Hagrid to tell Aragog to tell them that they have nothing to fear."

 _Really, spiders! Couldn't they just come on out with their problems and not insist on communicating with you through this complicated web of people who they would or would not eat? I've seen at least ten since I entered the forest! They could have spoken to me!_

Spike was about the size of a Shire horse by now and still growing, though his wings were still too weak for him to take the air. He had a vicious temper and would probably not hesitate to burn down the whole forest if his dinner was late, but he always perked up when Hagrid or Eowyn were around. He trust them. He did not trust the centaurs.

Laying the meat down and carefully unwrapping it, Eowyn stepped aside a little, letting the large, dark green dragon have his fill. As he ate she scratched his head, making the scales rise up. He was still growing his spikes and his eyes had only just begun to lose the bright green of baby-hood and turn cat-yellow. He was still surprisingly tame. How long that would last neither she nor Hagrid could guess. Maybe a few more days, maybe a whole lifetime. It was rather a novel idea – a dragon which did not seek to hunt and kill humans. Still, as Severus would tell her, "Never assume the safest possibility, Eowyn. Assume the most disastrous."

"He's not very positive is he?" Eowyn remarked, scratching Spike's head. "Still. He's come a long way since I first met him."

Suddenly there was a great crashing through forest, trees shaking and branches snapping. The centaurs started, drawing their bows. Spike stood up, a cow's leg hanging from his mouth and looked. Eowyn drew her wand, ready, as every good auror (or ex-auror) should be.

But it was only a very tall, sweaty and dirty Hagrid who burst onto the scene. "Professor …. Gond'lin! 'Ead-eadmistress wants ya!"

"What for?" Eowyn asked, placing a calming hand on Spike's head and not at all phased that Hagrid was seeing her in her nightwear. He was one of her best friends after all. After my three personal harpies.

"She wants ya fir the staff meetin'. I' starded 'bou' fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh, begorrah!" exclaimed Eowyn, her Irish accent becoming even stronger in shock. "Watch 'im, 'Agrid! Be back in a wee bit!"

Then, in a swirl of black feathers she transformed into her animagus form as a raven and sped off through the trees. Damn Umbridge and her stupid four thirty meetings! Did she think they did nothing but sleep at Hogwarts?


	4. Staff Meeting

Stares – 1995

If Minerva would let him, he would have transformed Umbridge into the toad that she was. He was sure that all his malice for her would more than make up for the fact that he was hopeless at Transfiguration. Running his hand over his face he pinched his brow and silently prayed for whatever god that was out there to strike this foul creature from the face of the earth, taking her stupid little kitten plates that Eowyn thought so adorable with her. Oh, alright, maybe he'd let Eowyn keep the kitten plates.

Eowyn. She was the source of their troubles. She was never on time for anything, staff meetings or otherwise. Breakfast. Quidditch matches. Classes. Although he had to admit, that last one could sometimes be attributed to his own fault. She was just too hard to resist sometimes.

"This cannot continue! Professor Gondolin's constant lateness to her classes and my meetings cannot be tolerated! This is on top of all the other problems within her teaching curriculum! Letting the children near that filthy octopus creature" – _it's a bloody squid, woman_ – "is beyond dangerous and –"

 _Tune her out! Tune her out!_

But it was so hard! Dolores' high, girlish voice insisted upon penetrating every single layer of hatred that he built up. So high and screeching. Not like Eowyn's. Eowyn's Irish lilt was clear and friendly and warm – except for when she had slapped Gilderoy Lockhart around the head and screamed at him for daring to touch her. Now that had been a moment worth seeing, he thought, a selfish grin creeping onto his face. The look on Lockhart's face. The shock. It had filled his heart (yes he had one) with deep schadenfreude joy … not to mention an increased level of love and admiration for the woman who had put that look there in the first place!

He'd done it! He'd tuned Umbridge out! His smile grew even wider and …

"Severus are you alright?"

It was Charity. She looked genuinely concerned. But then Charity looked genuinely everything. She couldn't have told a lie if she wanted to. Hufflepuff to the core.

"Yes," said Severus, supressing a yawn. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that …" Charity began.

"You're smiling, Snape," said Auriga with a grin.

"Is it a crime to smile?" asked Severus, consciously turning the corners of his mouth down.

"It is in your universe," said Septima.

"I do not know what you mean, Professor Vector," said Severus, turning to face Umbridge, who was going on about Eowyn's 'reckless antics' on the Quidditch pitches two weeks ago. She saved Malfoy's bloody life, woman! What more do you want?

"Are you in love, Severus?" Septima asked, a wide grin spreading over his face, a grin which he vividly remembered from their schooldays.

"Do you not know, Septima," said Severus, as Charity and Auriga quietly died of laughter, "I do not have a heart to love."

Before they could come up with a suitable retort, the door was flung open and Eowyn Gondolin made her typical late, dramatic entry. Actually this was more dramatic than usual.

Eowyn's hair was flying everywhere, blondish brown strands flopping all over the place. Her eyes, dark blue and flecked with teal, were bright with the excitement that always filled them when she was in a rush. Freckles glowed in the lantern light. Plump pink lips were parted slightly as she panted. He'd kissed those lips many times. He'd kissed them just a few hours ago. He'd heard them gasp his name.

 _Cool it, Snape, that line of thought isn't going to enhance your concentration skills!_

But this wasn't the dramatic part. He doubted any of the other professors even noticed her lips or her hair or her freckles. They were used to them. It was the fact that she was still in her nightclothes.

If the tie on her nightgown had stayed tied it would have been alright. But as it was Eowyn's knotting skills did not come anywhere close to her skill with animals so it had of course come loose and was barely hanging off one shoulder. It was dark blue, her favourite colour and the colour of her house, Ravenclaw. She had four nightgowns exactly, one yellow (Hufflepuff), one red (Gryffindor), one green (Slytherin) and of course this one. She would wear them alternately (in other words to a pattern that he didn't understand) but the blue was still his favourite. The nightgowns were all very loose and McGonagall style but the same could not be said for her chemise.

She had not been intending to be seen in public, that much was obvious. It only just made it to her knees, showing off long, naturally tanned legs and small, scarred feet (she was an ex-auror for crying out loud!). On top of that it wasn't exactly loose and clung to her, revealing a narrow waist and … _don't look at the chest, Severus. That is one sure way that this will end in disaster._ It occurred to him that he should know how long her nightclothes were. But he supposed he'd been in too much of a rush to get it off to realise.

The other professors were, of course, staring their eyes out. Dolores looked as though she could have drained the lake with her mouth. Minerva's mouth was a tight, but slightly amused, line. Pomona was shaking her head, hand over her eyes. Rolanda Hooch was stewing up an embarrassing retort. Poor Filius was redder than a tomato's backside. And Professor Lench. Severus' mouth tightened. That man was the embodiment of the words 'lecherous stare'.

It wasn't fair. Every year there would be someone eyeing her up. First it had been Lockhart (damn the man to seventh hell). Then Remus (ugh). Then Igor bloody effing Karkaroff ('nough said!). Now it was Carimus Lench, the man who had come in to cover for Bathsheda Babbling the Study of Ancient Runes teacher while she went on maternity leave. Oh, he envied the woman. She didn't have to spend her days catering to Umbridge's every bloody whim.

 _"_ _He stares at you."_

 _Eowyn had laughed, eyes twinkling adorably and hair blowing in the wind that came up from the lake. "Everyone stares at me, Severus. I'm the wacky Irish auror who doesn't understand the word 'safety' and has hair like a haystack! Everyone stares!"_

 _He rubbed the hand that was in the small of her back in circles a little. "Yes. But I mean he's INTERESTED."_

 _"_ _In me or the size of my arse?" she'd asked, frank as ever._

 _"_ _Probably the latter," he said._

 _She'd smiled. "It's nothing to worry abou', Severus. You know I'll hex him to within an inch of his life if he tries anything."_

 _"_ _I know. But I'm a jealous man. I don't like sharing. Especially not a fire-pot like you with a fop like him."_

 _She had laughed again at that, giving him an affectionate squeeze. "Well I'm not jolly well going to walk around with a neon sign saying 'I belong to Severus Snape' hanging above my head, so I'm not!"_

 _They had continued off towards the castle, laughing, forgetting Lockhart and the monster hidden in Hogwarts' depths and the stacks of exams that lay on their desks. They merely laughed._

She made him laugh. That was one of the many things he loved about her. She, so innocent and charming and honest, she had been the first person in so many years to make him genuinely, purely happy.

"What?" asked Eowyn, glancing around the room. Even now, no longer possessing the ignorant attributes of a virgin, she could be so innocent at times, entirely unaware of the effect her body could have.

Before Umbridge could say anything Minerva spoke up. "You might want to re-tie the knot, Eowyn," she said gently.

"What knot?" asked Eowyn, running a hand through her hair in an effort to tame it.

"Look down," said Rolanda Hooch.

Eowyn did.

Slowly a bright red flush crept up her neck and over her cheeks. Grabbing the sides of her nightgown she hastily pulled it securely around her body, before striding over to sit in her usual spot, between Severus and Minerva.

"Stop!" said Umbridge.

 _What now, woman?_

"What?" asked Eowyn, confused.

"You are not sitting next to a man, Professor Gondolin. Over there between Professor Burbage and Professor Vector!"

 _You bloody –_

 _Don't swear, Snape._

 _This is my own thoughts, I can bloody well swear when I want to!_

Dolores knew nothing. The staff of Hogwarts might stare in amazement and embarrassment, but they would never let it go any further. Hagrid, Filius, Filch. They could all be trusted.

 _I probably can't_ , he thought, a faintly amused smile quirking his lip. _Three years ago maybe. But not now._

Still, even if he wasn't going to be angry at Umbridge for her underestimation of the staff's moral standards, he could be enraged at her for depriving him of a game of footsies under the table.

"As you wish," said Eowyn, walking over to sit down between her friends. Looking over at Severus she rolled her eyes, then pointed a finger to her head.

 _**Does that mean 'shoot Umbridge' or 'occlemence'?**_

He saw her start a little at the words in her mind. Then she sent back _**D'you have a gun?**_

Then Umbridge started talking and they were forced to pay attention. Or at least pretend to.

 **Hope you like it! Please review and tell me what you think! I will hopefully be able to update regularly and although I haven't got all the chapters written I have the storyline all planned out so you needn't fear that this will be an unfinished fic! The dates in the chapter names are important as there is a bit of jumping around in time so pay attention to them. Now, if you hate Gilderoy Lockhart (and Umbridge) and love Severus Snape then this is the place for you! Once more please review and if you've any ideas let me know! :)**


	5. The New Professor

The New Professor – 1992

Just for the record, Severus Snape was not in a good mood. Life sucked. A lot. They had Gilderoy Lockhart – that's right, Gilderoy Effing I'm The God Apollo Come Down To Earth Lockhart – in this school. This was sacred territory! People of _his kind_ were not allowed. If Severus had been given his way he would have thrown the man out the moment he came in the door with his fake smile and golden cloak and curling hair. But as it was all he could do was sit at the table and listen as he felt his sanity slowly ebb away as the insufferable dandy prattled on to Madame Pomfrey. It was not often that he felt sorry for Poppy Pomfrey, but now he did. He felt deeply, deeply sorry for her. Just not as sorry as he felt for himself.

"Still no sign of the Care of Magical Creatures professor, Severus?" asked Charity, delicately eating her soup. She had an aversion to spilling hot liquids on new clothes.

"Not a hair," he said, trying to block out Lockhart's constant ramblings. "Though if it's anything like this old fool then I don't have any hope of our students learning anything more than a few choice swearwords."

"Maybe it'll be a female version of him and they'll get together, get married and leave us in peace," said Auriga, glaring pointedly in Lockhart's direction.

"Could you make that happen in the next fifteen seconds?" asked Septima.

"That wouldn't work though," said Severus, who usually became more talkative when he was sniping at someone. "Then if they had children we'd have to teach them."

"Damn!" exclaimed Auriga, hitting her soup with the back of her spoon. "Thought we had a way out there!"

"It's a bit strange that Dumbledore didn't tell us who was taking it though," said Charity.

"He didn't tell us Lockhart was taking the job either," said Septima.

"Bloody hell, what if it _is_ someone like him!" said Auriga. "We'll all be dead in a flat out week!"

"Do stop gesturing with your spoon, this dress is new," said Charity, pulling a little away from her friend.

"Oh, dear, then it's a pity I got that on it," said Septima, pointing out a large brown blotch on the blue fabric of Charity's dress.

"I'm going to kill you, you –"

Charity never got to finish her threat because at that moment the doors to the Great Hall flew open. Everyone, students and staff, turned to face the opened doors.

Nothing.

Whispers began to be passed down the tables, a few confused first years glancing around, looking slightly afraid.

Then a raven flew in. It flitted in an elaborate loop-the-loop, then flew a weaving path through the candles, the flames glinting off polished black wings, barely missing catching fire, before the bird shot towards the stairs, metamorphosing into a woman just in time for her booted feet to touch the floor.

She was not one of Gilderoy Lockhart's kind. That much was for sure.

Her hair, which was cut short just below her shoulders (and rather unevenly at that) was brown, but tinted with highlights of blonde and (if Severus' eyes did not deceive him) red. It was also a great big mess, forming a tangled frame around her face. Her skin was fair but her face was liberally scattered with freckles. A pointed nose, a small mouth and dark, deep-water-blue eyes completed the face. Her clothes (dark blue with green trimmings) were loose, cinched in only at the waist, revealing little more to her figure than that she was very tall and had a narrow (but not thin) waist. Her dress ended at the knee, revealing trousers underneath and knee-high leather boots. A pack was on her back and her wand, long, somewhat crooked and darkened with age, was in her hand.

For a few seconds everyone looked on in awe, particularly the Muggleborn first years who had never seen an animagus before. Then someone began to clap. Or, more specifically, two people began to clap.

"Three cheers for the style lady!"

"That was my line, Gred!"

Yes, the Weasley twins.

The woman turned in the direction of the Gryffindor table, a small, knowing smile on her face. But not a vain one. "Thank you for your support, Weasleys," she said, the smile reaching her eyes.

"Winnie!" cried Filius Flitwick. He leapt from his chair (quite a feat considering his size) and ran down the steps to where the woman stood. She instantly fell into a crouch, so as to avoid that embarrassing scenario of Flitwick hugging her around the legs, a brilliant smile on her face.

They embraced and then Flitwick grabbed her by the hand that wasn't holding the wand (her right) and began to lead her up the steps.

She never made it that far.

Septima, Charity and Auriga descended on her like vultures upon prey, practically elbowing each other in the face as they all gave her a hug at once, crying "Winnie!" at the same time.

"Eowyn Gondolin," said Minerva, standing from her seat and descending down to where her former student stood, surrounded by her friends. "Make room for an old lady, you hyenas." Then, to everyone's utmost surprise, she reached forward and embraced the young woman. Severus could hear the gasp go out around the hall. He had to admit, he was as baffled as the rest of them.

"Come on up, Eowyn," said Minerva, "but first get rid of that pack of yours."

As Eowyn ascended the stairs and took her seat between Minerva and Charity (much to Auriga and Septima's disappointment) Dumbledore addressed the students. "And Professor Eowyn Gondolin will be joining us in teaching Care of Magical Creatures, as well as taking over some lessons from Cuthbert Binns during her free periods."

If the clapping became any louder, Severus was fairly sure the windows would shatter. Everyone was sick up to their collars with Cuthbert Binns and would not be sorry to see the back of him, even if it was only a few times a week.

 **And so it begins! The story will get a wee bit AU from now on, since we all know Hagrid becomes the Care of Magical Creatures teacher in the Goblet of Fire year. I'll just have to work around that and if you're Hagrid fans, sorry. Don't worry, he'll get his moments of glory. In the mean time review away. The little button wants to be pressed! :)**


	6. Scars

Scars – 1992

"Severus, you're staring," said Albus.

"What?" asked Severus, turning to face Dumbledore.

Albus smiled knowingly, eyes twinkling with humour. "You're staring at her, Severus. It's rather obvious."

"If by that you mean to insinuate that she is pretty and I know so then yes, I agree. But that is as far as that train of thought goes," said Severus, turning his attention to his soup. Dumbledore did not pester him further so Severus was able to focus once more on the conversation that Eowyn was having with her friends. Yes, he agreed. Eowyn was pretty. But that didn't mean he was attracted to her. He was just … interested.

Mainly it was because of the scars.

They were not huge, disfiguring scars like he had seen on the likes of Mad-Eyed Moody. No, they weren't that bad. But they were there. There was one that ran along her cheekbone, as if someone had sliced a deliberately straight line across her face. Another was on the side of her neck, a jagged, skew cut. Her hands were cross hatched with small ones, tiny raised white cross-stitch on her slightly sun-browned hands. He wondered where she had gotten them. They did not look like the work of animals. Though that might be part of it. He wondered what job she'd had before she came here. No, she looked too young to have had a job before this. Maybe she was one of the unlucky ones, victims of the war. He shuddered, remembering vividly images of scarred, mutilated children. Curse you and your kind forever, Fenrir Greyback.

"So," said Charity, "you're here in one piece!"

Eowyn laughed. She had a lovely laugh, Severus couldn't help but notice. Not high and fake or cackling and cracked. It was warm and rich and real. "Well the dragon over Switzerland did try to change that and the Dementors insisted on tailing me for a good fifty kilometres after I passed the Eiffel Tower but yes, I'm here!"

Where had the woman come from?

"I can't wait to see you in action," Septima giggled. "We should put up a sign. _Hagrid and Gondolin: The road to your perfect Madness Menagerie of Magic – tickets a galleon each_. We'd be rich!"

"Then maybe we could use the coins to drown Voldemort," said Eowyn with a smile.

Instantly the head table went silent. The students, oblivious continued on with their chatter. But up at the high table, everyone looked at Eowyn with mixed looks of fear and shock on their faces. Even Severus would admit that he felt a pang of fear run through his veins.

"What?" asked Eowyn. "It's just a name."

"The name of a highly dangerous person," emphasised Flitwick.

"Maybe," said Eowyn, "but I'm sure we wouldn't like him to think that we cower in fear at the mere mention of his name."

"As I was saying," said Lockhart, puffing out his chest, "fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"If you hadn't quoted Granger I would have been impressed, Lockhart," said Severus, allowing the sarcasm to drip from his voice

"You were there too?" said Eowyn. "What were you looking for, Professor Snape? Or may I call you Severus?"

Severus blinked. She had spoken to him. She had addressed him directly. What did you do when someone spoke to you? The truth was that Severus Snape hadn't 'spoken' to someone in the sense that most of us do in forever. Any conversations that he had with strangers usually began with, "Get me this kind of ingredient" and ended with … well, nothing. He had never been addressed like that before. He was tongue tied.

"Professor Snape will do," he said, conscious of how stiff and cold his voice sounded.

Eowyn, totally unfazed, reached a hand out past Minerva to shake his. "Eowyn Gondolin, Minerva's nightmare in human form. Nice to meet you."

 _Now what is it you do with a person's hand when they hold it out to you?_

 _You shake it you old dolt!_

So he did. Her hand was warm.

He never did tell her what he was doing at Flourish and Blotts. Because right then Lockhart swept them away in a long, involving anecdote of yet another of his adventures. They listened, his captive audience, many of them barely suppressing the urge to end their misery and bang their heads off the table. Eowyn Gondolin was not about to take all that lying down though. She spoke just as Lockhart was describing a particularly vicious duel with a dark witch.

"Actually, Professor Lockhart, Catrina Skelet was heavily pregnant at that time and so it would be rather impossible for her to be able to cast as complicated a jinx as that without it backfiring on her."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Professor Lockhart, seeming astounded beyond belief that anyone should contradict his stories.

"I was in charge of making sure she didn't hex any of us to death while she was in labour. I was also in charge of making sure that she didn't take it with her when she tried to run away back to her fellow Death Eaters." Eowyn's voice was calm and confident. But there was a degree of sadness in her voice too. "And the next time you speak of a Death Eater, I would like it if you had more respect for people who are now rotting away their existence in that hell-hole that we dare call a prison. Now if you will excuse me I must be off to bed." And she rose from her seat and marched out of the hall. As she did so he saw her pause by one of the first years at the Slytherin table and smile at her before continuing off out of the hall.

As he tried to remember the girl's name he was not surprised to find that it was Natalie Skelet. He was not sure that he liked Eowyn Gondolin yet. He was sure that would come with time. But he was sure that she was someone to be admired. He knew now that she must actually be turning thirty soon. He remembered that she was two years below him. She was a Ravenclaw. Not your typical Ravenclaw stuck-up know-it-all either. She had been gangly, bright and funny, always with a joke up her sleeve. She had been a beater for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team in her day. Just as he went to bed that night he remembered how, when Lucius was in fifth year and she in third, he had called her a Mudblood. She had smiled sweetly at him and told him that, while she was sure he meant that metaphorically, she could easily make it physically true for him.

 _So let's see. She can shut Lockhart up. She can sympathise with Death Eaters. She can turn your blood into mud. Not bad at all._

 **It's short, I know. And I'm sorry. Eowyn's relationship with Natalie Skelet and her mother will appear more prominently later. I always felt sorry for the Death Eaters in Azkaban. Anyway, as you smart people will have realised, Eowyn is named after my second favourite Lord of the Rings character (after Gandalf), a badass female elf from the Hobbit movies and an elfish city which as far as I know does not exist anymore! Thank you to vani12 for being the first to fav my story and to FonzFan for following. Once again, if you've any ideas you'd like to share, review! :)**


	7. Hair and Know-It-Alls

Hair and Know-It-Alls – 1992

Ring, ring, ring-ring-ring-ring-RIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!

Groaning, Eowyn flipped an arm over and slapped blindly for her alarm clock, until she finally hit it and silence ensued. Sighing, she rearranged herself in her bedclothes and opened her eyes, taking in her new quarters. Her rooms as an auror had never been particularly comfortable, largely because she spent too much of her time trying to stop the world from crashing down around the Ministry's ears for relaxation. The idea of comfort was going to be something to get used to.

Being the Care of Magical Creatures teacher she had been given a small cabin just outside the grounds, near the lake. It was small, consisting of a bedroom, bathroom and a lounge-dining room. It was wood panelled and old and creaked whenever you moved, but it was also warm and cosy and you could hear the rain on the roof. Eowyn had always loved to hear and feel and see and smell the rain. It was one of the most wonderful things on earth in her opinion.

Seeing her clothes (her usual knee-length dress, trousers and boots) sitting out on a chair, she turned over in her bed to check the time.

 _Merlin save us all!_

Her alarm had been set for eight o'clock in the morning. Now it was flipping quarter to nine!

 _Get dressed, washed and up to the castle in fifteen minutes?_

 _Doubt it._

That was how, twenty minutes later, Eowyn Gondolin was rushing down the corridors of Hogwarts with half of the buttons in her overcoat undone and battling to tie her hair into a decent bun.

"Why hello there, Eowyn!" called a cheerful voice behind her.

 _Oh, help me!_

Gilderoy Lockhart strode up to walk beside her, teeth gleaming, clothes glittering and hair perfect. Why? "I do not believe we are on a first name basis at the moment, Professor Lockhart," she said politely, tugging a few rebellious strands of hair behind her ears and attempting to straighten the collar of her dress.

"Nonsense," said Lockhart, that ridiculous grin still on his face, "anyone as enchanting as yourself has a right to a first name basis with," – he paused to glance at his reflection in a pocket mirror, preening his golden locks – "my great magnificence, don't you agree?"

 _Is he flirting with me?_

 _Think so._

 _Even when he's interested in a person he still insists on glorifying himself. Pathetic._

"Although I must say, Eowyn, your sense of style is somewhat lacking. Those boots could do with a shine-up. Maybe some heels. A gold buckle or so."

"Professor Lockhart, it does not matter what my shoes look like. At the end of the day they will be covered in mud." _Does this man never go outside?_

 _More to the point, does this man have a life?_

But apparently Lockhart was not interested in her opinion and continued gaily prattling along. "And your hair! A mess! Is that meant to be a bun? I could show you a wonderful new style that a witch from Asia taught me. Ah, that was while I was on a quest to rescue the beautiful princess of –"

She caught sight of Professor Snape walking a way ahead of them, black robes flapping around him like a bat's wings. Yes!

"I am afraid, Professor Lockhart, that I need to talk to Professor Snape about something very important, if you'll excuse me," she gasped out, running forward to catch up with Professor Snape before he could respond.

"Pretend that we're talking," she said as she drew level with Professor Snape.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, one dark eyebrow raised. She sensed his walk becoming brisker and increased hers to match his. She could keep pace with him easily, long legs and much strenuous physical activity paying off.

"Lockhart seems intent on giving me fashion tips. I told him we had something important to talk about, so please look as if we're talking about something."

"We are," he pointed out, his voice a disinterested drawl.

She rolled her eyes expressively. "I mean abou' something that matters," she said, Irish accent coming on thicker.

"Well in that case, is that hairdo a style or did you just wake up like that and forget to brush it?" he asked, pointing a long, pale finger at her hair.

Standing proudly she said in her most haughty manner, "My hair is naturally inclined to messiness, Professor Snape."

"I see," he said, looking as though he was trying to hide an amused smile. "I suppose it could be worse. You could have hair like Granger's."

Granger? Ah, yes the girl with the frizzy hair who she had seen in Flourish and Blotts. "I think she looks like a sweet wee darlin'," she said, smiling.

"Do not be deceived by appearances, Professor Gondolin," said Professor Snape. "Miss Granger is the biggest know-it-all in the school."

A broad smile crept across Eowyn's face, making her eyes crinkle at the corners. "I don't know if you remember, Professor Snape, but back in the day when I had to deliver notes to your classes from teachers, I would say you were the biggest know-it-all this side of the English Channel."

She continued to smile as she walked on into the Great Hall, remembering her schooldays. Professor Snape stood outside for a few moments, contemplating, then followed her in. Had that been a jibe flung or merely a playful remark? In Severus' experience, such things said were often jibes. But he was not inclined to think this was. Her eyes has sparkled with humour, not malice as she said it.

 _Well that's a first._

Eowyn Gondolin arrived ten minutes late for breakfast and Severus Snape entered the Great Hall with a thoughtful, distracted expression on his face. Thus the trend was set for the rest of the year.

 **Eowyn Gondolin is still mine. :)**


	8. Lockhart, I'm Busy

Lockhart, I'm Busy! – 1992

Gilderoy could not understand why Madame Pince was so unwilling to tell him whether Eowyn was in the library. It was a simple 'yes' or 'no' question and surely she could not resist his dashing, award-winning smile, could she? He just hoped that if Eowyn was coming here she would hurry up because he was already a few minutes late for his robe change. It wouldn't do to go to dinner in green robes would it? Gold, gold was essential for a dramatic entrance. He checked himself in his pocket mirror again, making sure that every curl was in place. It wouldn't do to look flustered.

Sometimes he wondered why Eowyn appeared to be avoiding him, but he always comforted himself in the knowledge that she was probably intimidated by the idea that he, a famous author and highly accomplished wizard, should be interested in little old her. But he was. She had a sort of messy beauty about her, although when she became his girlfriend she was going to have to get herself a new wardrobe. Her current clothes were so unfitted and boyish and they hid all that there was to see. And her hairstyles! Don't get him started on that! She would have to grow out her hair and get it done up properly. Maybe she could dye it to be the same shade of blonde as his. Though that might be hard. A hairdresser had once told him that this hair colour was very unique and –

"Lockhart, you're in my way."

It was her! He would recognise her Irish lilt anywhere. It was a pity that she had interrupted him in the middle of such a pleasant trip down his golden past but still, she was here now.

"Why Eowyn I wish you call me Gilderoy," he said, flashing her his most charming, flirtatious smile that got all the ladies. "It has such a pleasant sound to it. Gilderoy. Gilderoy. Do you not think?"

He noticed that her hair was rather messier than usual, coming away from her loosely done up bun in thick, brownish strands that hung around her face. Usually she would wear an extremely loose, elbow-length dress (more of a wrap really) over her slightly more skin-tight underdress. But today was a little warmer so she had taken it off. The dress was made of dark blue cotton with small silver buttons down the front and the sleeves were unbuttoned and rolled up to the elbows. A pity that he hadn't changed his robes before this. Then his gold and her blue would have contrasted nicely, although he did not entirely agree with her choice of –

"Lockhart, have you heard a word I have said to you in the past three minutes?" Eowyn snapped. The one hand which was not clutching onto the four enormous volumes in her hands was on her hip and itching for the feel of her wand's smooth, age-worn surface in its grasp. She had homework to mark for Merlin's sake; she had no time for his uncomfortable stares!

"I was telling you that you can call me by my –"

"And I was telling you that I do not address people by their first names until I get to know them," Eowyn said, finally succeeding in stepping past him and moving in the direction of the where Madame Pince stood by her deck, scolding a poor first year.

The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted it.

 _Wrong thing to say, Gondolin, wrong thing to say!_

"Then why not get to know each other better! You could come to my rooms after supper! I could read some of my books to you, or tell you them by word of mouth. I know them off by heart." _I'm sure you do._

"I'm afraid that I'm a little –"

"And you could do with some serious advice on your wardrobe. Those dresses are not becoming at all. And I believe I have mentioned your boots before. I know a tailor over in Diagon Alley who could sort you out with a whole new wardrobe in two minutes flat." She didn't seem certain, he should try to reassure her. "I have him fit all my clothes. Quite an honour, you know. He is so pleased to do it. Him, a simple tailor, fitting the clothes of the famous Gilderoy Lockhart. Quite a step up in society don't you think –"

"What is this man's name?"

Why would she want to know his name? Why was the man's name important? And why did she say it in such a forceful tone? He hated it when she snapped. It made her voice sound sharp and like that horrible McGonagall person.

 _I'll bet he doesn't even know the name of the man who makes all his precious clothes! Is it possible for him to care for people beyond the extent of what they can do for him?_

"Be calm, my dear," – _you just be glad I didn't listen to Mad-Eye when he told me to kill any man who called me that_ – "it would not do to sound like McGonagall, it makes your voice sound so harsh."

 _No he did not!_

But he had. He had just insulted Minerva McGonagall, the only mother she had had for half her life. Well his hopes of catching her interest (always zero) had taken a sudden plunge into the minus digits.

"I'm busy, I'm afraid," she said, fighting the irrepressible urge to slap him till he cried.

"I do not know the man's name. It is of no importance. However I am sure if you were to come –"

"Lockhart, I'm busy!"

She spun around in and practically ran over Severus Snape.

 **If you're anything like me you'll be longing for her to slap the living daylights out of the old fool by now. Don't worry. That day will come. :)**


	9. Hand-Holding

Awkward Hand-Holding – 1992

Severus had come to the library with the sole purpose of returning a rather interesting magazine: _Advanced Alchemy for the Artists_ but his attention had been caught by the rather obvious raised voices coming from near the restricted section of the library.

The last time he had heard things from that section, it had been two sixth year Hufflepuffs snogging in a corner. However, judging by the sound of it, Lockhart was engaging in one of his endless stories of his own brilliance and, though Severus Snape was not given to pity, he thought it wouldn't do any harm to his reputation to swoop in and give Lockhart a telling off for raising his voice, maybe giving whatever unfortunate soul who he was torturing a chance to escape.

 _What if he's talking to himself?_

 _Sounds like something he would do._

 _Then we could get him thrown out on charges of madness!_

That particular daydream was quickly shattered as he heard Professor Gondolin's voice (sounding rather strained) saying, "I'm busy I'm afraid."

So, Gilderoy Lockhart was trying to snag himself a woman again. No surprise there. Lockhart had barely left Professor Gondolin alone for a minute since his arrival. Despite the young woman dropping obvious hints that she didn't care a fig for him or his books or his looks he insisted on pursuing her. Personally, Severus didn't see why she didn't dispense with the formalities and slap him outright. After all, it would only be skipping a few inevitable steps. Manners were highly overrated in his opinion.

He rounded the corner just in time to hear Lockhart say, "I do not know the man's name. It is of no importance. However I am sure if you were to come –"

 _What man's name?_

"Lockhart, I'm busy!"

She had practically shouted, the words rattling his eardrums. The next second her body rattled his bones as she crashed straight into him.

He staggered back, throwing out an arm to grab onto the nearest shelf. Eowyn hit the floor on the palms of her hands, her books flying everywhere. Muttering curse words in Irish she pulled herself onto her knees, picking up the books and checking each for ripped covers or turn pages.

As she reached for the last one she was surprised that a larger, long fingered hand picked it up for her. Looking up, peering through the strands of hair that fell in the way she saw Professor Snape, the book tucked under one arm while his other hand was held out to help her up.

 _Well, well, well. He has a human conscience after all._

She did not need help to get up. But he was being a gentleman and Eowyn had her reasons.

 _Reason 1 – make Lockhart jealous._

 _Reason 2 – he's not exactly well liked around here and well …_

He was interesting. He was quiet, he kept to himself, his hobby was taking points from Gryffindor. But Albus Dumbledore thought highly of him. And Albus Dumbledore had reasons for everything. And, true to Dumbledorian philosophy, he told no one his reasons. But one thing was for sure. On the outside at least, Severus Snape was a proper, all-round jerk. But he was also lonely. And he had also offered her his hand.

 _It wouldn't do any harm for him to feel appreciated._

So she took his hand, being careful to put as little weight on it as possible. "Thank you," she said, shooting him a small smile.

Her hand was warm and the grip was strong. She wasn't letting go. He wasn't pulling away. Her eyes were blue. Like dark water. They were beautiful eyes, he thought, the flecks of light blue making them look like the sea, with waves.

 _They're so black. Like night. Like they're going to suck you down into them._

"Ahem."

Lockhart's strategic cough made them both realise that they had been holding hands several minutes longer than was socially acceptable for two people who had only spoken a few times. Both hastily released the other and stepped back, Severus offering her the book he had been holding.

It was a thick, heavy volume, he noticed, entitled _Beasts of the Wizarding World_. "That is hardly a reliable source," he pointed out, keeping his tone brisk and professional. "Very out of date."

"I know," she said, accepting it and piling it on top of the others. "But if I cross-reference it with these three maybe I'll find something."

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

 _Why are you still talking to this woman?_

"I was looking for more information on the origins of centaurs. And Acramantulas too. I can't seem to find anything. It's like this library has something against giving you the information that you need. And while you're here, Professor Snape, would you mind letting me know if you have the ingredients for the Leanic's Potion? I need it for my next lesson."

 _Leanic's Potion?_ In his entire career as Potions Master Severus had only been asked for that potion by two people. One was Newt Scamander himself and the other had been a half-mad witch who was set on finding her husband who she was sure Voldemort had turned into a hare. Leanic's Potion was a glowing purple liquid which, when activated, drew the attention of magical animals around to it. But it was a tricky business. Brew it too weak and the animals would attack you as soon as they found you. Brew it too strong and they would follow you around to the end of your days. Get it just right and so long as you and the liquid were together it would quietly sit around and let you pet it. Despite the extreme usefulness of this potion, none of the Care of Magical Creatures teachers before her had ever thought to ask him for it, namely because it was barely mentioned in one of the most rarely sought after books of the century. It had become rather infamous since a few careless witches and wizards had died using it.

"You won't have to make it, Professor Snape," she was saying, no doubt taking his silence for doubt. "I have the recipe and the list of ingredients."

"How would you know what to do?" he asked. Potion making was a delicate art and he would be one of the first to admit it. One wrong move and room explodes with you in it.

She shrugged. "I scraped by an Outstanding in my NEWTs for it and I got an Exceeds Expectations for Alchemy so I should think I'll be fine."

"No," he said, "I am perfectly capable of making it."

"As long as it's no trouble," she said with a smile. It was a lovely smile. "And while we're at it, might you know where I can find _Wonders of the Magical Wilderness_? I'm told it's the most reliable, updated book there is on the subject."

"I have a copy in my rooms," he told her.

"Really?" Her eyes literally lit up with joy. "Could I borrow it? Just for a few days. Long enough for me to take the notes I need."

"Certainly."

Madame Pince had to suppress the urge to whistle in shock on the other side of the bookshelf. Would wonders never cease? Professor Snape saying yes to someone borrowing one of his books, of all things, was unheard of.

"You mightn't be in deep yet, Severus Snape," she murmured, moving back to her desk, "but you're starting to fall."

 **And the bonding begins! :)**


	10. Dolores Nosey Umbridge

Dolores Nosey Umbridge – 1995 (Intro in 1996)

They waited until the clup-clup-clup of Umbridge's pink heeled footsteps had faded into the distance until they all began venting their anger.

"Inefficient managing of hospital supplies, my foot!" exclaimed Poppy Pomfrey, flinging her reading glasses onto the nearest table with feeling and nudging the document that Umbridge had shoved at her onto the floor. "With the cutting supplies and the constant prank injuries how does she expect me to be managing! I've hardly gotten a wink of sleep since those dastardly Weasley twins left!"

"No trips out for staff!" Auriga looked as though she was going to combust in a burst of dust and light, like the very stars she studied. "Unbelievable!"

"Don't worry, Auriga," said Septima, battling to keep a straight face, "you'll find another way to snag a man."

"She could not!" Charity had never looked angrier in her life. "How are we supposed to teach these children about Muggles if all our Muggle books are taken from the library? It's called Muggle Studies for a reason you candy-floss covered clot!"

"Silence!" cried Professor McGonagall, rising from her chair in a single, fluid, catlike movement. Instantly everyone fell silent. Alongside Dumbledore she was the most reliable and looked up to figure in the school. Now that Dumbledore was gone she was the one whom both staff and students now turned to for emotional support. Even now, dressed as she was in a flowing white nightgown with a tartan dressing gown and her greying hair coming loose of her hair net, she commanded their respect. Seeing that she had their attention she spoke more quietly. "We've all been given a hard time over the past term or so. However, there is no need to compete with each other at the top of your voices to see whose plight is worse. We are mature, educated adults here."

"Who are running low on their chocolate supplies!" Charity called out.

"I haven't had bacon and eggs in forever!" groaned Filius.

"A good old slice of pavlova wouldn't go astray," Poppy murmured.

Minerva rubbed her hand over her crinkled brow. Why was it that such conversations always turned to food? "Well in that case," – she gestured for the room to be silent once more – "I volunteer myself and the Quartet of Chaos to join me to go down to Hogsmeade and buy you all a decent breakfast and I would have you lot know," – here she fixed Charity, Auriga, Septima and Eowyn with a stern glare – "that I have only referred to you by your nickname because I could not be bothered to recite your names."

"Oh, we're not complaining," said Septima with a grin that made her look quite murderous, with her poker-straight black hair hanging around her face in ragged strands. "It brings back joyous memories."

"Of the time we graffitied the prefects' bathrooms," said Auriga, eyes bright with mischief.

"Correction," said Charity, smile wide. "We _magically_ graffitied the prefects' bathrooms."

"As I remember that took four years and numerous failed attempts by both students and staff to remove it," said Rolanda Hooch, yawning loudly.

"Mud-blood is red,

Your blood is blue,

Tom Riddle is stupid,

You Purebloods are too," Eowyn murmured under her breath.

"That should have been our motto, Minerva," said Auriga with a grin as they followed their older teacher down the stairs, leaving the warmth of the staffroom and promise of a good banter behind.

"If you are intent on offending half the wizarding community then yes, Auriga, that would be the way to do it," Minerva agreed.

When they had changed into acceptable clothes and coats all five professors began to make their way out into the freezing, early morning cold towards Hogsmeade. As soon as they were out of earshot of the entrance hall, Auriga turned on Eowyn. "Alright, spill the beans, Winnie. How long have you and the greaseball been at it?"

"I'm only going to tell you as long as you call him by his name," Eowyn said, shooting Auriga a warning glare.

"What, you mean 'the bat'?" Septima suggested.

"Well you've got to admit he's been a lot better over the past few years," Charity pointed out from somewhere within her enormous, furry coat.

"I wonder why that is …" Auriga said, shooting Eowyn a sly grin. Eowyn kicked her in the shin.

"Enough messing around," Minerva said, grabbing Eowyn's elbow. "Answer the question."

"Fine," said Eowyn. "It's been going on ever since the holiday of 1994, after Lupin got fired and all."

"I still can't believe he gave Lupin away like that!" said Auriga.

"Another potential boyfriend lost!" Septima exclaimed with false sorrow, a hand over her heart. Auriga threw a chunk of ice at her.

"Well he didn't!" said Eowyn. "Not willingly."

"Why then?" Charity asked.

"It was a bargain with someone from the Ministry," Eowyn told them. "If he gave away Lupin's secret, Pettigrew would be tracked by this person."

Minerva shook her head. "That man has too many shady dealings for my liking."

"Hear, hear," said Eowyn.

"The ironic thing is you're one of them!" Auriga exclaimed, dodging a kick.

"I don't understand how Umbridge hasn't found you out yet," Charity said, skidding slightly on a puddle of ice. "She's been nosing so much into our private business she'll find out that I caused three car crashes in three weeks solid while staying in London for studies."

"As I've said many times before," Septima said, "you, Muggle alcohol and traffic lights do not mix well."

"Shut up and let Winnie answer the question!" Auriga exclaimed.

"Well," said Eowyn, a smile creeping onto her face. "There was this one time …"

 ** _First term of 1995, several months ago_**

"Well it's obvious that you're a Muggleborn, Mr Fennec," Severus murmured, scratching a bright red 'x' onto the paper.

"Oh, what did the poor dear do now?" Eowyn asked, leaning over to look.

"Last I looked merfolk weren't that pretty," Severus remarked, tilting to the essay so that she could see it better. Drawn with extreme care and tedious precision onto the paper was a picture which looked suspiciously like the Ariel in the Disney adaption of 'The Little Mermaid'.

"Well you've got to admit that he has artistic skills," Eowyn said, smiling slightly. "I remember when I showed Charity that film she thought she'd found a kindred spirit."

"I'm not at all surprised," Severus murmured.

"Yup," said Eowyn, returning to the essay she was marking. "Back when I took her on her first trip to Dublin when we were little she called everything that she couldn't understand a 'thingamee' or a 'whatchamacallit'. And Septima would tell you that she went up and down the escalators fifty times at the mall. I was too busy trying to make sure she wasn't put in an insane asylum to count so I'm afraid you'll have to take her Slytherin word for it."

They fell into comfortable silence, Eowyn's head resting on his shoulder as she flicked through yet another essay, Severus' fingers warm on her waist where her dress was only done up loosely. She was just beginning to get sleepy, what with the hot chocolate, long essays, excruciatingly Umbridge-esque day and shared body heat, when they heard a sharp rapping on Severus' door. Both exchanged startled glances.

It was half past ten at night. _No one_ at Hogwarts was up then. Well, apart from them of course. And the House Elves. And probably Mr Filch, prowling the halls for renegade students (cough, cough, Potter and company, cough, cough).

Putting a finger to his lips, Severus signalled that she was to remain quiet, pushing some of the essays aside so that –

"I know you're in there, Snape and Gondolin!"

Their eyes instantly met again, this time united in shock.

 _Damn Umbridge!_ both thought in unison.

Now was not a good time for Umbridge (or indeed any member of staff) to come waltzing into Severus' chambers. Severus was fairly sure that the rumpled bedclothes and their state of semi-undress would not be easily covered by the fact that they had been marking huge piles of second year essays on said rumpled bed.

Acting quickly, Eowyn tugged her hair into something vaguely resembling a ponytail and began hastily doing up the buttons to her dress. "I'll answer it, Severus," she muttered. "She knows I look like I've been attacked by crows on a daily basis but you have no excuse." Leaving him no time to protest she marched out of his bed chambers to the door, grabbing a random stack of documents on the way, leaving him to get his shirt on properly.

An opened door revealed a very red-faced Professor Umbridge standing outside, one hand gripping her wand as though it were a lifeline. She seemed rather surprised to see Eowyn greeting her at the door, not looking at all flushed or surprised by her presence.

"What can I help you with, Professor?" she asked, being careful to speak in a strong Irish accent and putting particular weight on the word 'professor' making it clear who she believed to be in charge of this school. _Long may he stay there._

"I would like to see Professor Snape as well, Professor Gondolin," said Dolores, fingering her wand and putting on her best, fake smile.

"Of course, Professor," said Eowyn, opening the door with deliberate slowness. Then she turned to the door and called, "Severus, make another hot chocolate! We have a guest!"

Clearly stumped by such ordinary behaviour, Dolores allowed herself to be led into Severus' lounge, where Eowyn sat down and, picking up the nearest essay on a potion she'd never even heard of before and began pretending to mark it, pointedly ignoring Umbridge, who sat in her chair, pink dressing gown and ( _Merlin help me!_ ) pink curling irons clashing viciously with the dark green of Severus' chairs. At least they weren't black like they had been when she first came into this room. She noticed Dolores glancing about the room … searching.

But for what?

 _Probably some sort of solid proof of 'us'._

Photos?

They did not have any. Only memories.

Love letters?

Severus didn't do that sort of thing. And Eowyn was always the sort of person who preferred to tell you it to your face.

Gifts?

All set randomly about the room, as though they were merely part of the furniture.

A mess indicating … (Eowyn felt her cheeks flush) … recent activity?

Thank Merlin, no.

"Ah, Professor Umbridge. How … pleasant … it is to see you," said Severus, voice dripping with just the right amount of sarcasm as he swooped into the room, three mugs of hot chocolate balanced in one hand. Looking him over Eowyn concluded that he looked as immaculate as ever. Long, sweeping black robes. Check. Scowl firmly in place. Check. Collar done up tightly. Ummm. _Oh well, maybe she's no the observant kind._

Umbridge smiled tightly at them, being careful to keep them both in line of sight, as though they might try something. "I have come to speak to both of you upon the topic of your late-night … meetings."

She said the last word as though she had something else in mind and Eowyn could not help but shoot Severus a glance, eyebrow raised. 'Meetings' was quite a delicate way of putting it, she thought.

"What about them, Professor Umbridge?" Severus asked, turning to face her again, face pointedly blank. "A teacher's life is hard." _Particularly with you around_ , his eyes said.

Umbridge sniffed, turning her nose up even more than it normally was. "I have heard from certain sources that Professor Gondolin often leaves very late in the night. Sometimes in the early hours of the morning. Rumours even state that she does so in her nightclothes. What I want is to know exactly what is going on!"

 _**What she wants is to catch us in the act,**_ Severus whispered into her thoughts.

Eowyn decided it was time for her to speak. "Professor Umbridge. I am quite willing to admit that yes, I do often leave Professor Snape's rooms late at night. But I would also like you to take into consideration that I and my friends, professors Burbage, Sinistra and Vector often go to each other's rooms and remain there for the whole night."

"That may be," said Professor Umbridge, fiddling with her wand in her lap, "but Professor Snape is a male."

"Good of you to notice," Severus murmured.

Eowyn choked down laughter (and half melted mashmallows) as Professor Umbridge shot him her best death glare. "Professor Umbridge," said Eowyn, trying to maintain a sober façade, "I can assure you that the most Severus would ever let me get up to in his rooms is marking homework and arguing. Does he strike you as the sort of man who would be involved in an affair?"

"Eowyn!" exclaimed Severus, trying to hit her with the nearest essay at hand. Severus was allergic to any word which so much hinted at … you know.

"Someone had to say it; otherwise we'd be dancing around the subject for hours!" Eowyn shot back, fending off his attack.

"Very well then," said Professor Umbridge, "may I see the bedroom?"

 _Uh oh._

Severus blinked. "What?" he asked, as though Umbridge had just asked him to go out on parade in clown makeup.

"I wish to see the bedroom. If what you say is true then I shall find nothing there."

"Well I should imagine you'll find a bed," Severus pointed out. "Last I looked that was normal in bedrooms."

Eowyn was not sure if he was playing for time or just being his usual, pernickety self. Professor Umbridge obviously opted for the former. "Enough of the playing for time, Professor Snape. I wish to see the rooms. As the High Inquisitor you must obey me."

"Very well," said Severus, looking as though he had just been asked to swallow Trevor the toad whole, getting up and moving towards the door to his bedroom.

 _**Is it cleared?**_ Eowyn asked.

 _**No,**_ was his answer.

 _**Great, now what?**_

 _**I will take care of it.**_

 _**Famous last words.**_

Severus flung the door open, allowing Umbridge to prance into it. A step in she immediately stopped prancing. She had seen the bed.

"Bloody hell," Eowyn whispered, burying her head in her hands. Then, unable to stand not seeing her doom, peeking through her fingers.

The bed was a right proper mess. The outer cover was pretty much lying across the floor. The sheet was tangled hopelessly. And the mattress was indented in the centre, where two people had lain together for a long time. Essays, some marked and some not, were scattered across the sheets, although it was clear that they had been in two neat piles at first.

 _Until her grandness came dancing in._

But this was not the end of it. Eowyn's boots lay on a hearthrug near the fireplace. And her belt was on the floor. And a brooch that her mother had given to her as a birthday gift when she was eight was glittering rather prominently on a side table.

Umbridge spun around as swiftly as a stinging hornet. "I knew it!" she hissed. "It's been going on ever since I arrived hasn't it! You little … sneaks!"

"Is that really the best you can come up with?" Severus drawled. Eowyn glanced up at him, wondering whether she should be panicking right now. But Severus seemed as calm as ever. Maybe she should just leave it to him. He was, after all, the trained Death Eater.

 _Though that probably shouldn't be of any reassurance to me._

"You shall be fired for this!" Umbridge declared, advancing on them, where they stood in the doorway, side by side.

"I don't think so," said Severus quietly.

"And why not, may I ask?" Umbridge snapped, standing up to her full (and not very impressive) height.

"Because you aren't going to remember it," said Severus. He raised his wand and murmured, "Dorius Somnus." Instantly Umbridge collapsed onto the floor, snoring contentedly.

Slowly, Eowyn tiptoed over to Umbridge and waved a hand in front of her face. Nothing. She gave her a nudge with her foot. Umbridge only snored louder.

"She'll be out for about half an hour I expect," Severus murmured, laying his wand down on the nearest table.

"Well as charming a Sleeping Beauty as she makes, what are we going to do about her firing us?" Eowyn asked, giving Umbridge another nudge.

"A memory charm should do that," Severus said, moving over to sort the marked exams into a single, neat pile.

"But unless we wipe her brain of everything that's happened here she'll still suspect us," Eowyn stated, moving over the help him, picking up her brooch and belt as she went.

"Alas yes," Severus conceded. "We'll just have to wipe it of everything that has happened in this particular episode, leave her in her room and then wait for her to come down again, with you gone."

"I'm not carrying her on my own!" Eowyn stated. "Definitely not if she keeps drooling like that."

"Who said you had to carry her?" Severus asked. "The Levitation Charm is hardly difficult."

"Well if Mr Filch –" Eowyn began.

"Also known as her secret valentine," Severus muttered.

" – sees me with the High Inquisitor hover above me in a deep and magical sleep there are going to be questions asked."

"Well if I do it there won't be any questions asked," said Severus. "They'll just ship me off to Azkaban straight away."

"Fine!" Eowyn huffed. "I'll do it. But you've got to turn up at my trial."

"That's an idea. It would be a change to be in a courtroom outside of a cage."

 **Will Mr Filch catch her in the act? You'll see in the next chapter. (Which I'll hopefully get up tomorrow.) Until then, enjoy this! :)**


	11. Excuses, Excuses

Excuses, Excuses – 1995

Personally, Eowyn could not care less of Dolores' head bumped off the ceiling. But she was also sure that strange bruises on the High Inquisitor's forehead and (if they were very unlucky (or lucky depending on your point of view)) concussion, would be rather suspect. So she was forced to take great care to ensure that Dolores didn't have her skull riven in two by the ceiling. She was just creeping up towards where Dolores' office (and hopefully her chambers) were, when she heard a voice calling out behind her, "'Ey! What're you doin' with the 'Igh Inquisitor?"

 _Oh Merlin, Filch! You couldn't have waited just another minute or two?_

Eowyn Gondolin and Argus Filch had never gotten on. On her first night as a first year she had sneaked out of the Ravenclaw dormitory to explore, found five different peculiar passages and befriended Mrs Norris as well as some dozen or so House Elves who she ran into on her way to the kitchens. Mr Filch had caught her coming out of the kitchen with Auriga (a fellow Ravenclaw) and had dragged them both off to Dumbledore's office by their ears. At two o'clock in the morning.

To this day Eowyn would grimace when she remembered Filch's long rant as he dragged her and one of her best friends down the corridors. He had such hard, grimy nails! Then she would grin when she remembered Dumbledore coming out of his office in long bright red/ultraviolet/navy blue robes which had florescent glow around the edges. A night cap and a lantern finished the Wee Willie Winkie effect rather nicely in her opinion. She and Auriga had taken a full five minutes to stop laughing before they could explain themselves. Ever since then she and her friends were locked in a bitter feud with Argus Filch.

Seeing it was her made the frown lines in Filch's wrinkled old face carve even deeper, pale eyes near bulging out of his head. Trying to remain unfazed by his sudden intrusion she addressed him. "Good evening, Mr Filch. I am afraid that the High Inquisitor collapsed outside Se-Professor Snape's door. I am taking her up to her rooms."

"Shoulden you be takin' her to the Hospital Wing?" Filch enquired, a suspicious frown on his face. "An' wile we're on the subject, what were you doin' in Professor Snape's rooms?"

Eowyn frowned at him thoughtfully. Could he be the leak? One of the 'certain sources' that Umbridge had mentioned. It was highly plausible now that she thought of it. Filch would wander around the corridors deep into the night, sometimes straying into the grounds. It would have been easy for him to catch sight of her coming or going. Great. Just what they needed. Someone working at Hogwarts who was on Dolores bloody Umbridge's side. Just great.

"What I was doing in Professor Snape's rooms is none of your business, Mr Filch but since I believe you will take that answer the wrong way I will tell you that I was not, in fact, in his rooms. I was merely calling for another batch of Leanic's Potion," said Eowyn, knowing how much Mr Filch detested the glowing violet concoction.

Wrinkling his nose at her like a dog when it smells something foul, Mr Filch turned back to his previous bone that he wanted to pick at. "Well I still think you should take her to the Hospital Wing," he said. "Fallin' don't do anythin' good to people's heads."

"Well since her head's full of rubbish anyway maybe it'll have the opposite effect," Eowyn muttered.

"What?" asked Mr Filch, who had begun his journey back down the corridor.

"I said I'll take her to Poppy," said Eowyn, moving on, being careful to keep her wand straight and her focus strong as she began to manoeuvre Umbridge under a particularly nasty arch.

She'd only just made it out of Filch's line of sight when a small, black haired, orange eyed form dressed in eye-paining clothes literally leapt through the nearest wall. Letting out a small noise of surprise, Eowyn jumped back, her wand jerking Umbridge back, banging her head against he wall.

 _Damn you, Peeves!_

"Well look who it is!" Peeves caterwauled, doing a somersault in the air before bouncing off the walls a few times, grinning manically. "It's Minnie Mad-Eye!"

It had been Peeves' nickname for her for years. Whenever she had come to the school to lecture in Defence Against the Dark Arts or Care of Magical Creatures, he would remind her of it. It was a blend of Minerva's pet name (though she would never admit it) and her mentor's nickname and, many had found, rather suited Eowyn's personality.

"Very smart, Peeves," Eowyn remarked drily, subconsciously mimicking Minerva's crisp, sarcastic tone.

Peeves apparently appreciated the fact even if she didn't and burst into howls of laughter, flipping over in the air as he did so. "So what are we doing on this fine night, Minnie Mad-Eye? Coming back from seeing dear Snivellus?"

Eowyn glared up at Peeves, dearly wishing that her wand was not busy trying to save the High Inquisitor from further injury. "Firstly Peeves, what I do is none of your business. Secondly, you and the Marauders were too good friends for your own good. His name is Severus and I have never seen him snivel in my life. And thirdly, yes, I have been to see Severus now if you would be so kind, I must get dear, darling Dolores to the Hospital Wing."

"Why?" Peeves asked, doing another somersault. "Why not dump her in the lake? I could help!" he added, eyes glittering.

"I think not, Peeves, I think my record is quite bad enough without murder being tacked onto the end. Now shoo!"

Peeves did not shoo, at least not immediately. He insisted on following her for a while, bouncing off walls, singing highly embarrassing songs and every now and again poking further into her relationship with Severus. In the end he tired of her non-reactions and moved one, leaping through a solid wall.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had made it their duty that night to finally find themselves a place where they could train Dumbledore's Army. They had been dawdling aimlessly down the corridor for a while, exchanging whispers along the lines of:

"Ron, you're stepping on my toe!"

"Sorry, can't see in the bloody dark."

"Don't swear, Ron, people might hear."

"So no one will hear if I scream from the rooftops so long as I don't use swearwords?"

"No, what I meant is –"

"Quick, find somewhere to hide!" exclaimed Harry, shoving them towards an alcove in the wall.

"What? Is it Snape?" Ron asked, as they crouched in the dark.

"No," said Harry, checking the Marauder's Map, "it's Professor Gondolin and Umbridge. Although …" he gazed more closely at the map, "I think Umbridge might be drunk …"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, leaning forward to look.

"See the way her dot's moving erratically," said Harry. Indeed it was. Umbridge's dot kept seeming to bounce off walls and did not seemed to follow any particular pattern.

"Umbridge … drunk," said Ron, looking thoughtful.

"Sh, I can hear something," Hermione whispered.

Just at that moment Professor Gondolin came around the corner, followed by an almost luminous pink form hovering above her.

"Bloody hell, she has pink hair curlers!" Ron exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

The trio watched Eowyn intently. She was dressed in her usual – a dark blue dress that reached just past her knees, dark green trousers beneath and leather boots, her grey overcoat on but unbuttoned. The night wasn't that cold. She looked perfectly normal. Apart from the fact that she was carrying Umbridge around in the air – snoring loudly, they realised.

Just as she passed, Ron suddenly grabbed Harry and seemed about to whisper something into his ear but Harry, taken by surprise, jumped up with a small yelp of surprise, before realising it was Ron and hastily crouching down again. But it was too late. Professor Gondolin had heard. Turning around she back-tracked and came to halt right in front of them. She stood, looking down at them, taking them in. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I won't tell if you don't."

Then she turned around and began to walk away. As she did so, Ron couldn't help but ask, "Did you do that to her, Professor?"

Eowyn smiled, flicking a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, realising he meant Umbridge. "Oh no, Mr Weasley. You will have to thank Professor Snape for carrying out the service. He did quite a good job don't you think?"

"Blimey he did," Ron murmured. "I might study for that Potions test after all."

"I should like to think you study for every Potions test, Mr Weasley," Eowyn said, frowning at him slightly as she walked away.

"Professor?" Ron called.

"Yes," she said, turning to face him.

"I couldn't help but notice, Professor. You've got a funny red mark on your neck. Did you bang into something?"

 _Bloody hell, Severus! Why?_

Resisting the urge to flush, run away or ask him how big it was, Eowyn merely smiled and said, "I'm afraid so, Mr Weasley. Peeves decided that throwing a small table around was his new favourite form of entertainment."

"Been there," Ron said.

"Thank you for your concern though. Goodnight!" She walked on, mentally cursing Severus. "And remember to study for that test!"

"And you've got to admit that he's sort of earned it," said Hermione as they made their way back to their dorms. "He did save us from Lupin when he was in werewolf form back in third year and he has been a lot better over the last few years."

"I wonder why," said Harry. Then, "Maybe he's in love?"

"Professor Snape? In love?" Ron choked.

"I highly doubt it, Harry," said Hermion. "He's just … not the kind of person … But who do you think it would be?" She could not help but ask, natural curiosity taking over.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "Maybe Professor Vector. They do spend a lot of time together."

"And they're both in Slytherin," added Hermione.

"McGonagall?" Ron asked.

Hermione gave him a vicious shove. "How dare you, Ron? And anyway I think she's with Dumbledore."

"La, la, la! Can't hear you!" Ron chanted, stuffing his fingers in his ears.

"You started it!" said Hermione.

"I was joking! Can't you take a joke?"

"Not to her favourite teacher she can't," said Harry with a grin. "We should find out though," he added. "Then we need to make sure they stay together until he retires."

"Why?" asked Ron. "It only has to be for as long as we're here."

"What about when our kids come to school?" said Hermione. "I wouldn't want any daughter of mine to have to go through this." She shuddered.

"Imagine it," said Ron, grinning. "What if they have kids?"

"Ew! Now my ears are bleeding!" Harry exclaimed.

"Miniature little Snapes!" Ron teased. "'Don't … make … me … eat … that.' 'So what if I took your toy, life isn't fair.' 'If you ever criticise the way I toddle you'll be sorry.'"

"Imagine if they have big noses like he does!" exclaimed Harry.

"Twice as big as their little heads!" said Hermione.

"And then –"

"Potter! Granger! Weasley! What's this, eh?"

Argus Filch. Help.

"What might you lot be doin' out of bed?" Mr Filch asked, his smile crooked and more than a little malicious.

"Well … we were …" began Hermione.

"We're just delivering a message for Professor Gondolin," said Harry hastily.

"Really?" asked Mr Filch. "I figured. Madame Pomfrey said she'd be needin' more supplies soon. Well off yer go. Snape's still awake by my reckonin' and the dungeons is just over there." He gestured to a staircase spiralling down. "I reckoned the Madame'd need 'im. Concussion ain't pretty. Well off you go! He doesn't like being dragged out of bed for work!"

They hastily ran in the direction he pointed.

"Great!" snapped Ron. "Now we have to go wake Snape up and bring him to the Hospital Wing! Can't imagine it'll be pretty."

"Sh, Ron, put on your best behaviour face," Hermione hissed as they reached Snape's door.

Harry knocked quickly and precisely, waiting until the harsh "Enter!" was called and he slowly pushed his way into the room.

Instantly he was overwhelmed by the books. They were everywhere. They lined every nook and cranny of the space and were stacked in piles on various tables among piles of essays and other similar things. Two dark green chairs sat by the fire which was burning low in the grate. Snape himself was sitting in one of these chairs, reading through an essay.

"Potter," Snape acknowledged. "What do you want?"

"We're delivering a message from Professor Gondolin," said Hermione hesitantly.

"All three of you?" Snape asked, a dark eyebrow raised in obvious doubt as to that claim.

Harry tensed. Great. Now Snape was going to put his brilliant mind to the task and likely come to the right conclusion.

"Professor Gondolin you say?" Snape asked, a curious look on his face.

"Yes," said Harry. "She's taking Umb-Professor Umbridge to the Hospital Wing and she said they needed your assistance." He was sure that Professor Gondolin would cover for them and come up with some weird and wonderful explanation as to why she had needed _all three_ of them.

"I see," said Snape. "Well I dare say she had her reasons for sending _all three of you_. Now be off."

They turned to leave. But as they did so they noticed something lying on one of the tables, near a pile of exams.

It was a brooch.

It was a lady's brooch.

It looked to be a silver shamrock with a green stone set in it, surrounded by wreathes of ivy. The pin looked like a miniature sword, making a small smile quirk at the edges of Ron's mouth. Hermione and Harry were transfixed however. A brooch. In Severus Snape's room! A –

"I believe I told you to be off, Potter. I will be up at the Hospital Wing soon and I do not need the help of three young Gryffindors such as yourselves to help me find my way."

Just as they left he called again. "Potter?"

Harry turned, waiting for the points to be deducted.

"It's Umbridge, Potter. You can forget about the 'professor' part. She is a mockery of the term."

 **Before you book fans go ballistic, yes I know that Severus didn't save them from Remus in the book. But the fact is that by then he'd have known Eowyn for two years and after that long she would have begun to have an effect on him, making him a nicer person, OK? Anyway, Eowyn Gondolin is still mine and all reviews are appreciated. See you next time! :)**


	12. Suspicious Marks

Suspicious Marks – 1995

Poppy Pomfrey liked her sleep. The problem was that as Hogwarts' matron she hardly got any of it. Sleep was a prized commodity, especially with Harry Potter and his bunch messing around and getting into scrapes and nearly getting killed a couple of hundred times a year. So she was not at all pleased, just as she was drifting into a light doze in her chair, a book resting in her lap and her reading glasses sliding down her nose, when a harsh knocking was heard on her door.

Groaning slightly, Poppy got to her feet, shoving some renegade strands of grey hair under her cap and unlocked the door with a clipped, "What is it now?"

It was Eowyn standing in the doorway with one arm holding her wand at a peculiar angle. _Oh no, not this again!_

"Eowyn, who did you infuriate this time, to the point where they would freeze your shoulder? Septima by any chance? Her and her fluke spells! I shall –"

"Could you look up please, Poppy."

With a sigh Poppy complied. "Pink curling irons!" she exclaimed, lip curling in disgust. "I have never seen anything so disgusting in my life!" Then, turning back to Eowyn, "But why is she asleep?"

Eowyn seemed to think for a moment before saying, "She caught Severus and I brewing a potion that would hopefully help Spike, you know the dragon that Hagrid's keeping in the woods, grow up more quickly. She realised what it was and Severus put her to sleep. We were going to have me take her up to her rooms and perform a memory charm on her to make her forget the episode. But then I ran into Filch who said I should take her to the hospital and it would seem as though I had something to hide if I took her to her room so we're doing that."

"Well that's alright," said Poppy, mouth quirking slightly. And she had thought Hagrid and his animals were bad. "Do you want me to perform the memory charm?"

"Of course," said Eowyn. "I'm too tired anyway." Right on queue she yawned loudly.

"You're working way too hard," Poppy said, levitating Umbridge herself and bringing her to lie down on the nearest bed.

"Well what choice do I have," Eowyn murmured, stifling another yawn as she watched Poppy pull out her wand, ready to perform the charm. "I've got all these extra tests to give out ever since her holiness came here. It's like she thinks the children will deteriorate into dust if they don't have a test every week. I swear the poor wee darlin's work just as hard as I do." She yawned again, stepping back to give Madame Pomfrey room to perform the charm. This charm took a while as it involved sorting through the person's thoughts and finding exactly which part you wanted to erase. The moment would have to be exactly right and you would then have to modify the memories so that they would think what you wanted them to – in this case that she had fainted a few feet from her door and –

 _Hang on!_

 _Sort through her thoughts!_

That meant Poppy would see everything that –

Poppy's head jerked up from her concentration, light blue eyes meeting Eowyn's dark. She knew. Then her head bowed down to the task.

When it was completed and Umbridge's memories sufficiently changed, Poppy turned to Eowyn a small smile gracing her face. Eowyn was standing before her, hands behind her back, head bowed slightly and cheeks visibly pink, looking like a scolded schoolgirl out of uniform. Well that imagery brought back memories!

"So, you were brewing a potion to make the dragon grow?" said Poppy, voice bright with humour.

"Well we are," said Eowyn in a small voice, shuffling her feet. "We're working on it so that it'll work on him since most dragons are allergic to half the ingredients. We really are. We think that in a few months we may be able to solve it …" She trailed off as they both noticed the Golden Trio filing into the Hospital Wing.

Grateful for a distraction, Eowyn walked over to them. "Is everything in order?" she asked.

"Yes, it's all alright, Professor," said Hermione with a smile. "We just –"

"Wanted to savour this glorious moment of victory," said Ron with a broad, Weasley grin.

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione. Then, turning back to Eowyn, "We wanted to tell you that Professor Snape might be coming up here since we made an excuse to Mr Filch that we were running and errand for you. He'll probably be coming soon."

"Wonderful," said Eowyn, then cringing slightly as she heard Poppy laugh, disguising it as a cough.

"By the way," said Ron, pointing at Eowyn's neck, "that red mark on your neck seems to have gotten worse. It looks darker now. You might want to get Madame Pomfrey to examine it for you."

"A red mark?" Poppy's voice was full of ill-disguised glee. "Well we can't have that, Eowyn. Thank you, Mr Weasley for pointing it out." She began to steer Eowyn towards her office, turning around to call, "Goodnight!"

A few seconds of silence followed and then Ron said, "Why do I get the feeling that we just handed someone over to their worst nightmare?"

"Well he knows what he's doing," Poppy murmured, inspecting the mark as Eowyn sat down on a chair next to her.

She wasn't exaggerating. It was a dark red and a fair size at that, on the left side of Eowyn's neck, showing up starkly against the pale skin.

"It's happened before," said Eowyn. "Just never on the neck."

Poppy smiled. "Well if I were you I'd cover it up. The Peeves story may fool the younger students but the seniors will guess. Easily. And it wouldn't do to give them the wrong idea would it."

"Poppy?" a voice called from outside in the Hospital Wing. Severus had arrived and was looking for them. Eowyn hastily pulled her coat close and got up, opening the door just in time for him to lurch forward.

"What was that for?" he asked, frowning slightly. "And it appears that Umbridge has already been seen to. Was I not needed after all?"

"Which question would you rather I answered first?" Eowyn asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"How about you do them in order," said Severus.

"Fine. One, I will tell you later. Two, no that was just so Filch didn't put Mr Potter and company in detention. And before you protest, Severus, they're beginning an organisation to bring Umbridge down. What more do you want?"

Severus sighed. "I suppose. Very well, I had best be going."

"Me too," said Eowyn, not wanting to be cornered by any more of Poppy's questions. "See you tomorrow, Poppy."

"You left rather hastily," Severus noted as they walked down the shadowed corridors towards the dungeons. As usual his hand was around her waist and hers around his. It had become a familiar gesture to both of them, so familiar in fact, that sometimes it was hard to remember not to fall back on it when the students were around.

"I was avoiding some embarrassing conversation," said Eowyn. "And by the way, collarbones are all very well, but the neck is rather obvious."

"Why would a person's neck be obvious?" Severus asked, casting her a genuinely confused look.

"Marks," said Eowyn, wondering if she was going to have to spell it out for him. For the man who had done the deed he was very naïve.

"Marks? What about them?" asked Severus, casting her a confused glance.

Eowyn rolled her eyes and pushed her hair out of the way, revealing the red mark. He looked at it, blinked, smiled and then gave her a quick squeeze around the waist and continued walking. His lack of reaction prompted her to speak. "Severus, you realise that this means I will have to wear Minerva-high necklines until this goes away."

"Pity," said Severus, giving her hand a squeeze, "that means more buttons to undo."

Eowyn slapped him in the arm. "And you accuse me of inappropriate behaviour. Hypocrite!"

They continued in pleasant silence for a while until Eowyn said, head resting against his shoulder, breathing in his scent (paper, books and a hint of smoke), "Poppy knows. She saw in Umbridge's thoughts."

Silence.

"Severus? What's with the lack of reaction? You're starting to worry me!"

She snapped her fingers in front of his face to grab his attention. He grabbed her fingers and gave them a small kiss, before releasing her and saying, "Poppy can be trusted. She won't talk. She's used to keeping secrets."

"Maybe," said Eowyn, trying to ignore the oddly pleasant tingling feeling in her fingertips combined with the warmth of his hand on her waist, "but she may encourage any possible theories that will arise. You know, with Umbridge on our tail."

"As long as they're Umbridge's theories she will condemn them to her dying day. If they are someone else's she will feed them clues like a grandmother spoiling her grandchild."

"I can imagine!" said Eowyn with a small burst of laughter.

As she did so she threw back her head and Severus could not help but notice that the skin on her neck was very smooth and pale. It wasn't as though he hadn't noticed before. It just sometimes took him by surprise. He smiled slightly and pushed her hair to one side, kissing her where the mark was. Now that he touched it she realised it was tender. But not in a bad way.

"By the way, Severus," she said, gently pushing him away for a second, "if I wake up with another mark on my neck in the morning, I will transform you into a golden watch for Twinkle to play with."

"I have no doubt about that," said Severus, pulling her face close to his and pushing her back against the wall, but not roughly. Eowyn's arms slid up around his neck, pulling him closer as he kissed her senseless, his hands beginning to trace patterns up her side. "You know," he said, pulling away only when he needed air, "I think I'm starting to like walls."

Eowyn's laugh was rather breathless but her reply was as firm as ever. "Well right now this wall is colder than my great-grandmother's grave and a nice warm bed is sounding like a much better proposition."

 ** _1996 a few months later_**

"What I don't understand," said Auriga, as they began their trek up to Hogwarts from the village, "is how you two can be half undressed and in the same bed for hours, marking _boring_ exams and not … you know …"

"Auriga," said Minerva, "that is what is known as a stable, mature relationship."

Auriga frowned at her former teacher. "How would you know that?"

"Never you mind," said Minerva, concentrating on not dropping Poppy's favourite breakfast (chocolate croissants) into the snow.

"I always wondered why there were always a few days every now and again when you were suddenly into high collars," said Septima.

"Alright then, change of topic," said Charity, whose face was slightly red after that story.

"Yes," Auriga agreed. "We've all agreed that he's a good kisser. But what about the rest?"

Eowyn blinked. "What do you mean the rest?"

Auriga rolled her eyes dramatically, narrowly avoiding tripping over a log and emptying the entire contents of her shopping basket onto the ground. "You mean after sharing Severus Snape's bed for so long you still don't know what 'the rest' means?"

"Whenever he says, the rest, he usually means anyone not in Slytherin," said Eowyn, still frowning.

"Fine, I'll spell it out to you," said Auriga. "In. The. Bed."

"No, no, no!" exclaimed Charity. "I don't want to know!"

"I agree," said Minerva. But a smile was tugging at her lips. She could remember a similar scene playing out when she was younger.

"You really want to know?" Eowyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" said Auriga and Septima together.

"Fine," said Eowyn. "So the first time was …"

 ** _Skip ten minutes_**

"Merlin help me!" exclaimed Charity, head in her hands as they walked up the steps. "I did not need that! I did not! I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at him the same again!"

"Me neither," said Auriga, smiling.

"That grin is freaking me out," said Septima, "please look serious."

"But to think that all this time –"

"Zip it, girls, Filius is at the door," said Minerva, the only person in the group who was totally unfazed by the story.

All of them immediately fell silent. Except for Charity who hid behind her hair and muttered, "Never be able to look at him the same again. Never!"

"Are you quite alright, Charity?" Severus asked, as the staff collapsed onto their seats, digging in to their favourite breakfasts.

Charity instantly went tomato red and discovered a particular interest in her snow boots. "I … I … I'm …"

"She's just recovering from the aftereffects of girl talk," said Auriga.

"Terrible thing that," said Filius, nodding his head in sympathy as he dug into his bacon and eggs.

"I agree wholeheartedly," said Severus, accepting his scrambled egg and hash browns with a giant mug of hot chocolate.

"I thought you said you didn't have one," said Septima with a smile from behind a giant chocolate cake.

"Oh, Tima, I think we can re-evaluate that statement," said Auriga, a knowing grin plastered all over her face.


	13. Greasy Git

Greasy Git – 1992

Over the next few weeks the staff and students gradually came to accept Eowyn. The students all loved her (apart from a few snooty Slytherins). In her Care of Magical Creatures lessons she always brought in interesting creatures with exciting tasks. Once they even got to have a lesson at night! To those who were lucky enough to have her for History of Magic she was a lifeboat in Professor Binns' sea of boring information. As one third year put it: "We might actually learn something this year."

The staff (many of whom knew her from before) had all accepted her into their friendship circles. Septima, Auriga and Charity had barely left her side for a moment. Gilderoy Lockhart continued in his not-so-subtle flirting, only to be rebuffed by either Eowyn herself or one of her friends. The man could really be persistent, Eowyn thought.

She was waiting in her cabin for the arrival of her second year History of Magic class. Cuthbert Binns' classroom was just as grey and dull as his teaching style so she had long ago insisted that all her History of Magic classes take place in her cabin, which she found far more suitable. She had converted the attic into a classroom. There weren't any desks though. Everyone sat on the floor on large cushions and wrote on a magical material called 'Solid Air' which she had discovered in one of her travels to Saudi Arabia. It was really quite handy.

A clattering sound from downstairs announced the arrival of her class and she smiled to herself, climbing down the ladder to greet them. She did not find a happy sight.

Neville Longbottom looked as though he would drown in his own tears. He was blubbering into Hermione Granger's handkerchief, eyes red and puffy as tears streamed from them.

"You mustn't listen to him, Neville," Hermione was saying, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly. "He's just –"

"A greasy git, we know," said Harry Potter, his face almost as red as Ron's hair.

"Wait till he hears that, Potter," snarled Malfoy. "You'll have more detentions than Mudblood in your veins."

"That is quite enough racism from you for this morning, Mr Malfoy!" Eowyn announced, striding past him to stand in front of Neville. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder she said, "Come on into my kitchen, Neville. Mr Potter, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley come in as well. I must have a talk with Mr Malfoy."

When the still sniffling Neville had been led into her kitchen by Hermione, with the two boys tailing after her, shooting venomous looks at Draco, Eowyn turned to face him. "Mr Malfoy," she said slowly, "I would like you to appreciate that, just because your father is rich and yes, a pureblood, does not give you leeway to throw your weight about. Like it or not but you are human, like the rest of us. Yes, like the mudbloods and Muggleborns and the Muggles. I will have you know, Mr Malfoy, that I am a half-blood myself. My mother was as Muggle as they come. So if you do not want to lose your house fifty points, I would keep your racist ideas to yourself." Raising her voice slightly she added, "And that applies to all of you. And no, Miss Parkinson, it is not something to titter about. Now, if you will excuse me a moment I have a mistake to amend."

 _Though for once it isn't mine._

By the time she entered the kitchen Neville had calmed down considerably. A few stray tears were still trickling down his cheeks but other than that he seemed to have recovered. Hermione was sitting beside him, talking in a low voice while Ron and Harry stood to one side, both slightly red-faced with anger.

"Please, Harry and Ron, sit down," said Eowyn, indicating the chairs around her table. In class she always refered to her students by their surnames but when she was talking to them privately she tended to resort to first names. "I don't bite, even if my creatures do."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry and Ron as they sat down.

"I trust you all like hot chocolate?" Eowyn asked, waving her wand at various kitchen appliances.

"Umm," began Hermione.

"Yes please!" said Ron instantly. "Marshmallows and cream!"

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione, indignation overcoming her tong-tied state. "That's very disrespectful!"

"Never mind, Hermione," said Eowyn. "You can have as well. Harry and Neville?"

"Yes p-p-please, Professor," stuttered Neville, blowing his nose.

"If it's no trouble, Professor," said Harry in answer to her raised eyebrow.

Letting the magic do its work, Eowyn turned back to the table and sat down beside Neville. "Now," she said, crossing one knee over the other, "I take it that Professor Snape is the cause of your misfortune."

She might have only been here a few weeks but she had already heard the label 'greasy git' being verbally pinned to her colleague's back. She had not spoken to him much since him lending her that book save for a 'hello' in the morning. He wasn't exactly a social person. No doubt he was embarrassed after holding her hand in the library. She couldn't say she blamed him.

"Yes, Professor," said Neville, wiping his nose. "I messed up the potion. Again." He sniffed, rubbing his hand over his face to dry it. "It fizzed up and bubbled all over the place. Ruined my book. And –"

"And the big old bat yelled at him till our ears were all ringing!" Ron snapped, face red with anger.

"And he won't get me a new book so my grandmother's going to have to get a new one and she'll know what's happened and she'll be so terribly cross and –" Poor Neville burst into floods of tears again, the image of his grandmother on the warpath apparently too much for his already shattered senses. Eowyn scooted her chair closer to his and pulled him close into a sort of half hug, offering him her own handkerchief.

They sat like that for a while until eventually Neville's panicked sobs ceased and he was able to focus on the mug of hot chocolate in front of him.

Patting Neville on the shoulder Eowyn drew away and picked up her own mug. "Firstly, Neville," she said, "I am happy to say that, once again," – she shot Hermione a knowing smile – "Hermione is right. It does not matter what Professor Snape says. He is, as Harry says, a greasy git. Though I would be eternally grateful to you if you did not voice these sentiments to him. Secondly, I am sure your friends will be more than happy to lend you their books for a short period of time." She paused to take a sip of her hot chocolate, closing her eyes as she thought.

"But what about after that sh-short period of t-time?" Neville asked. "I can't sh-share their b-books forever."

Eowyn smiled. A true Gryffindor underneath all that sniffling. Wouldn't do for a Gryffindor to need help would it? "You will only need to borrow from them for a short time, Neville, because I will make sure that Professor Snape personally makes sure that you get a new book, without your grandmother ever knowing a thing."

"How are you going to do that?" Harry blurted.

"Yeah," said Ron, "you couldn't get the old miser to give you a breath mint if you were on your death bed!"

"Ron," said Eowyn, "I believe that you will not find me 'begging' Professor Snape for everything. I have my ways. And, as a relative of mine once said, I believe she was an English lady, 'If reason fails, try force'."

"I like this woman," said Ron with a grin.

"However," said Eowyn, rising from her seat, "I am sure that someone as socially gifted as me will not need to revert to such medieval methods." Flashing them a wink she turned to leave the kitchen. "When you've finished your hot chocolate come on in. And yes, Mr Malfoy, I can see you peeping through the keyhole. Twenty points from Slytherin for being so cliché."

 **Yes, we're back in the past! You Downton Abbey fans will all have realised that I borrowed a line from the Dowager (who I don't own - sadly). I think it is quite plausible that Eowyn could be related to the Crawleys on her Muggle side by Tom Branson. Anyway ... read, review and enjoy! :)**


	14. The Bet

The Bet – 1992

Eowyn Gondolin was on the warpath. She might not have a pair of muscle-bound cronies to follow after her (like Malfoy) or long black robes and scowl fit to make the dead shudder (like Snape) but she did radiate an aura of purpose and enragement that had the students scurrying out of her way. None of them had ever seen her like this during the time she had been teaching them and, when she had passed, many openly voiced their hopes that they would never see her like this again.

Eyes followed her as she marched down the spiralling stairs to the dungeon, her purposeful, booted tread echoing harshly off the stone walls.

"What's got into her?" George asked Fred Weasley as her footsteps became gradually fainter.

"I don't know," said Fred, "but I do know that old Snape's going to have his hands full in a minute or two."

"D'you think he'll need cooling off?" George asked. They had recently bought a magic water soaker which would hover over a chosen target like a miniature thundercloud until the magic word was spoken.

"Maybe," said Fred. "We'll see."

Eowyn knocked briskly on Severus' door, waiting with her fingers drumming against her hip bone. She was just about to knock again when the door swung open to reveal Severus Snape's very disgruntled face.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

"Well firstly I would like to come into your rooms so that I do not embarrass you by conducting this discussion out in the corridor for all to hear," she said, keeping her own tone brisk and efficient.

Severus looked her over, eyes narrowed. "What have I ever done to warrant such a discussion?" he asked.

"Two words: Neville Longbottom."

As she had expected, he rolled his eyes and stepped to one side, indicating that she could enter the room.

His lounge was surprisingly spacious. A fire crackled warmly in the fireplace, causing long, shadows to stretch out behind the two chairs that sat near it. She noticed that one was covered with a fine layer of dust. A table sat between the chairs with a sole cup of hot chocolate on it. Eowyn's eyebrow could not help but rise at that. Severus struck her as a 'strong black coffee with no sugar' person. But what fascinated her most were the books. Along every wall bookshelves were crammed with thick, crammed old tomes, all dusted and polished and looking in surprisingly good shape.

"Golly, you've go' half the bally library in here," she gasped.

"Indeed," said Severus, seating himself, dark eyes surveying her somewhat warily. He wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with her in his living quarters. "So you wanted to talk about Longbottom."

"Yes," said Eowyn, tearing her eyes away from her books and getting down to business. She remembered to seat herself, resisting the urge to sneeze as the dusk engulfed her. One thing that her sister Arwen had taught her was never to stand when another person is sitting. You want to appear an equal. "Mr Longbottom was very upset when he left your class today."

"Babies tend to cry," he stated coldly.

Eowyn's glare could have melted the Ice Age. "Neville Longbottom is a human being, Severus Snape and he has feelings, just like one. Just because he is not a genius at your particular subject does not make him an inferior being."

"And what do you suggest I do about that?" sneered Severus. "Teach him cookery instead?"

"A start would be not blowing your top off every time he makes a mistake," said Eowyn, feeling her anger rising. Her eyes glittered dangerously when she was angry, Severus noted. "You cannot go on like this! The boy is learning nothing!"

"Because he happens to be an idiot!" Snape snarled, rising to his feet.

Resisting the urge to leap to her own feet and give him a sharp slap around the head, Eowyn kept her seat. "No," she said, being sure to keep her voice calm. "Because you give him no room to be a genius."

For a few moments Snape was lost for words. Making use of the breather, Eowyn spoke again. "A Muggle scientist, one of the most intelligent men in the history of science in fact, Albert Einstein, once said 'Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid'. That, Professor Snape, is what you have done to Neville. He is a fish out of water and if the fish can't go to the water then the water must come to the fish."

A few moments' silence followed this statement as the two professors continued to glare at each other, blue fire meeting black ice. Then, "So are you suggesting then that I change my entire curriculum to suit one slow-minded Gryffindor?" He did not even wait for her reply. Merely said, "You do not know me at all."

 _Of course I don't know you, mainly because you refuse to converse with anyone!_

Eowyn took a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten. It was what Minerva had always told her to do when people aggravated her. She heard Severus say in a harsh voice, "Go, Professor Gondolin."

She did not go. Instead she stood up and said, "No, I do not know you. But I do know that being bullied in your school years is no excuse to be a bully in your teaching years."

He froze for a few seconds. She knew of his problems in school? Now that he came to think of it, of course she did. He remembered once when he had been dunked into the lake, Sirius and James holding him down. As they finally dragged his head free of the freezing water he had caught sight of a girl's reflection. He could not remember much except that her hair, brown and chopped just below her ears, had been a mess and that her wand was bent. He had been half drowned for Merlin's sake, he was in no state to take in details. All he knew was that when he stood up she was gone and to this day he was not sure whether she had been the one to make Sirius and James let him go or not. Maybe he should ask her sometime? No. Then he would be admitting his weakness.

Dragging himself back to the present with a wrench he said, "As I said before, Professor Gondolin, I will not change my teaching method for the sake of a single pupil."

"I am not asking you to change your teaching method for the sake of a single pupil. I am asking you to change it for the sake of them all." She walked to the door before pausing once again. Turning to face him she said, "Professor Snape, if you will not listen to reason will you listen to a bet?"

"A bet?" he asked, a dark eyebrow raised.

 _He's interested. Good._

"Yes," she said, allowing a smile to creep into her voice. "For one week we will each take our classes as normal and monitor their progress. The next week we will switch classes, also monitoring their progress once again. After that we will compare notes and see who did better. Since Care of Magical Creatures is a vastly different subject to Potions you will be teaching my History of Magic classes."

"I have had nothing to do with History of Magic for fourteen years, Professor Gondolin," said Professor Snape, haughty tone returning.

"And I have had nothing to do with Potions for twelve," she said with a smile. "So I would say it is fairly even. Want to bet?"

Silence. Long silence.

Would he refuse? Would he let his ego take over? Would he throw her out? What if the whole experiment went entirely wrong? And even if it went as she planned, would he be willing to admit that he was in the wrong?

All these questions and more raced through her head as she watched him, his black eyes glittering in the firelight. It occurred to her that he, seated by the fire, was in home territory while she, standing by the door, was an outsider. It would be all too easy for him to just throw her out.

"Yes." One word. But it meant so much. "But I believe we can start sooner than a week from now. I monitor my classes with extreme care." He raised an eyebrow, asking an unasked question. _Do you?_

He was surprised when Eowyn smiled beatifically and said, "Why so do I, Professor Snape! In that case how about we start tomorrow?"

He did not know whether he was enraged that she was just as prepared as he was or … he felt a strange warm sort of feeling when she smiled. Shaking it off as owing to the hot chocolate he had just drunk he said, "Very well, Professor Gondolin. I shall be prepared."

"Scowl and all?"

She was still smiling slightly. Was that a jest or a jibe? Severus shook his head. Sometimes she worried him. He usually had most of the people he met figured out within a few days of their entering his life, let alone a few weeks. But not her. Not yet.

"Indeed," he said, going for the one-word answer.

"How much money?" she asked, getting down to business.

"Ten galleons," he said, unaware of how common those two words would become in their relationship.

 **A while ago I saw an meme that essentially conveyed the idea that just because Severus Snape was bullied in school did not give him the right to bully innocent kids when he became a teacher. And I must admit that one of the things that annoys me in most Snape romance fics is that no one seems to worry about that. So I'm going to change that ... Or rather Eowyn is. Hope you enjoy it! :)**


	15. Teaching Arrangements

Teaching Arrangements – 1992

"What do you think the bat's got in store for us today?" Seamus Finnigan asked, slamming his books down on his desk. "Some other heinously difficult concoction that Merlin himself would stumble over? A pop quiz on the properties of a plant we've never heard of?"

"Well I've been going over my notes on –"

"We know, Hermione, you're a genius," Ron cut in. "The point is that I've got something interesting to tell you."

"Does it concern Professor Snape by any chance?" asked Hermione, sulking slightly now that Ron had shut her down.

"You bet it does," said Ron with a grin. "Apparently Professor Gondolin wasn't kidding when she said she'd do something about Snape. Fred and George saw her go down to Snape's office after lessons. Apparently the look she had on her would have made You-Know-Who pee himself. She practically had everyone running for their lives."

"And what happened afterwards?" asked Harry. "Anything else?"

"All I know is that she and Snape were both talking to Dumbledore about something during dinner. McGonagall looked as though she was going to have a fit, scolded Gondolin like she was only four. But Dumbledore seemed to find it plain amusing," said Ron.

"So I guess that means its … good?" said Hermione, glancing around uncertainly.

"What do you think they were talking about?" Harry asked.

"The new teaching arrangements as a matter of fact," said Eowyn.

Everyone instantly whirled around in her seats to face her. They were used to the tell-tale stomp of Professor Snape's feet along the echoing corridors. Eowyn's quiet, steady tread they had not been expecting.

"Woohooo!" exclaimed Ron, high-fiving Harry.

Down in Professor Gondolin's cabin the students blanched in terror at the sound of stomping feet on the floorboards.

"We're in seventh hell!" Natalie Skelet hissed to her friend, Alyss Black.

"You said it," Alyss murmured.

 **Short and I'm sorry. But we're getting there. Hope you like it! :)**


	16. Competition

Competition – 1992

"That explains a lot," Draco whispered, "Snape would never be late."

"Well I am not Professor Snape, Mr Malfoy," said Eowyn, "so I am afraid you will have to get used to my manner." Then, seeing Hermione's hand shoot in the air, "Yes, Miss Granger."

"No offence, Professor, but why are _you_ teaching us Potions?"

"Is Snape sick?" Seamus Finnigan called out, face bright with hope.

"No, Professor Snape is alive and well," said Eowyn. "Only I've made a bet with him."

"What kind of bet?" Ron asked.

"One I think I can win," said Eowyn, eyes sparkling. "Now listen. I will need your help with this project. You see, over the course of the next week I will be teaching you Potions while Professor Snape teaches my classes History of Magic. At the end of the week each of the classes will be tested with the Potions test being written by Professor Snape and the History of Magic test being written by myself."

"What's the point?" Harry called out.

"What happens if we win?" Ron asked.

"If we win," said Eowyn, smiling slightly. "If we win then the lot of you will be taken on a trip to Hogsmeade escorted by myself and I will personally receive ten galleons worth of pride."

"And what if Snape wins?" smirked Draco.

"I am not going to answer that Mr Malfoy because Snape is not going to win. We are going to thrash Professor Snape till he bleeds and you, Mr Malfoy, you are going to pull your weight."

She said this all while pacing in front of the class. As she spoke she looked Malfoy directly in the eyes and put on her sternest, most don't-mess-with-me Minerva McGonagall face. It worked. Suitably cowed, Draco sat back in his seat, muttering something about his father.

"So," said Eowyn, returning to her desk and beginning to unpack her bag, "today we will be making a variety of different potions. At the beginning you will be given the recipe without the name of the potion or what it does. I will write the names and the effects up on the blackboard in a random order. Using the recipe's as a guide try to figure it out, but keep your ideas to yourself. At the end of the lesson, when we have tested all of them, we will come to a final conclusion. Take your time and if you have a problem ask me. You're not in Professor Snape's class anymore, you're in _mine_. If all else fails, imagine the look on Snape's face when we win."

"How are we going to win?" a small Ravenclaw girl asked from the back.

"Snape's a pusher, Professor," said a Hufflepuff boy. "He'll make sure they know all their dates off by heart. They'll be reciting 'em in their sleep, you'll see."

Eowyn merely smiled and said, "History isn't about learning dates. It's about telling stories. And as for how we will win, we will win with hard work, lots of sweat and a sprinkling of luck. D'you think you can do that?"

Slowly, one by one, the heads nodded.

"Good. Then allons-y!"

 **Yes, language geeks, I used the French for 'let's go'. And before you complain that she's Irish not French ... I don't care. My Irish brother-in-law uses it all the time and I like the phrase so I used it. Anyway, hope you like it! :)**


	17. Glamour Issues

Glamour Problems – 1995

If he hadn't moved she would probably have slept on until he woke her up. But as it was he moved a little in his sleep, the arm which gripped her waist pulling her closer while the one that was tangled in her hair flexed slightly, letting her head rest against his neck. She had never been a deep sleeper (even if she was a slow riser) so this was enough to wake her. Looking at the clock by his bedside she concluded that it was just half past five in the morning.

 _I could go back to the cottage now._

 _No, better not._

By this time the early rising students and teachers would be up and about and it would be better to leave his room together at a normal time and say that they fell asleep marking the homework than if she was seen creeping out of his room in the early hours alone. Or she could always turn into a raven and make things easier for them.

It took her awhile to wake but by half past six she was wide awake and ready to rumble. Severus, on the other hand, was fast asleep. She wasn't surprised. What with Lord Voldemort now alive and making issues again, Umbridge on the loose and extra homework to mark, his life was a great deal harder than hers, meaning that extra sleep was no longer a luxury, but a requirement. So she carefully pulled the hand that snarled in her hair free, letting it instead come down to grip her waist with the other and reached over to pick up the nearest book from his bedside table.

 _He always has to be surrounded by books doesn't he._

"You should have been a Ravenclaw, you love books to much," she murmured, flicking over another page of the book.

"And you should have been a Gryffindor because you're crazy," came the sleepy reply.

"Hey!" said Eowyn, hitting him on the chest with the book. "I'm not the one who's friends with the wall!"

"I wouldn't call the wall a 'friend'. More of an 'atmospheric engineer'," said Severus, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

"I can't argue with that," said Eowyn, frowning at the book. "Golly, does this man not know that the flowers of Asphodel will put you in a permanent state of depression?"

"Apparently not," said Severus. He was playing with her hair as she read, another habit he had developed from his time with her.

Just then, what looked like a large, white paper dragonfly settled onto the page of the book. Eowyn instantly recognised what it was. She and her friends had often used such flying paper shapes to communicate and she had even seen it among her students.

Unfolding it she read out the note:

 _Eowyn,_

 _In view of what I discovered last night you might find this particular spell helpful in dealing with the … side effects._

 _Poppy Pomfrey_

 _P.S. Be sure to make sure you don't get pregnant. I have enough on my hands as it is without having to worry about You-Know-Who bursting in and demanding the death of Severus Snape's unborn child. Golly, I never thought I'd write that sentence let alone consider hearing it!_

Severus and Eowyn exchanged glances. "And how are we supposed to do that?" Eowyn asked.

Severus shrugged. "I haven't a clue. I've never had to worry about a Dark Lord murdering my unborn child. I don't know how you can prevent that situation."

"Not while you and the wall are such good mates," said Eowyn.

"Are you going to remind me of that for the rest of my life?" Severus asked, planting a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder as she turned the paper over, searching for the spell.

"Yup," said Eowyn.

Poppy had ripped a scrap of paper from a textbook with the words:

 _The glamour charm to cover bruises, pimples and discoloured skin is put into action by the word 'instaura' and is accompanied by a sweeping gesture over the affected area. The area will return to normal skin colour and -_

"Well she has very accurate annotations," Severus murmured.

He was right. Between the words 'bruises' and 'pimples' Poppy had gleefully inserted the word 'hickies'. "She is going to hold this over my head for the rest of my life!" Eowyn groaned.

"Like me and the wall," said Severus with a small smile as they returned to lying in their original position.

"Like you and the wall," said Eowyn, silencing him with a kiss.

"You ever thought that Snape and Professor Gondolin look like a couple when they come into the hall?" Fred asked George.

"I don't know," said George, "I think they're just friends."

"Friends who take regular walks around the lake unaccompanied?" Lee Jordan asked.

"Maybe," said George. "I mean, Dumbledore and McGonagall do it all the time."

"If that was meant to prove your point I'm afraid that you have failed dramatically," said Fred with a grin.

"I wonder if there are any more professors who are dating," murmured Angelina Johnson, glancing around the room.

"Professor Sinistra," said Lee. "But apparently she gets a new boyfriend every month so I'm not sure she counts."

"No, she doesn't," said Angelina. She was now looking intently up at the high table while the boys observed Professor Gondolin and Snape walk up to it, talking in low voices. Half way there Snape murmured something to Professor Gondolin and burst out laughing, giving him a half-hearted punch in the shoulder.

"Architectural masterpieces! Really, Severus! They're just old, water stained structures that keep the roof above our heads! They're nothing special!" Still laughing quietly she took the steps, slipping into a seat between Professor Flitwick and Professor Burbage.

"Well they're very close friends if they are," said Fred. "I mean, if anyone else tried to walk that close to Snape, let alone give him a punch in the shoulder I think they'd find themselves hexed into last century."

They were still talking about their teachers romantic lives four hours later as they sat in their last lesson of the day, History of Magic, waiting for Professor Gondolin to arrive. Late teachers were handy.

"I don't see why Professor Vector couldn't have a man," Angelina was saying. "I'll bet she looks much prettier when she wears something brightly coloured and takes her hair down."

"And I'm sure she'd be thrilled to hear you say so, Miss Johnson," said Professor Gondolin with a smile as she briskly strode into the room, slamming her books onto the table. Realising that her hair was coming out of her (not very artistic) bun, she pulled out the ribbon and through back her hair, starting to do it up again as she spoke. "Today we'll be tackling the werewolf allegiance with the centaurs against the Romans as they advanced upon Switzerland. It's interesting, Mr Jordan, so if you would be so kind as to desist from throwing spit balls at the back of Miss Johnson's head that would be appreciated."

"Sorry, Professor," Lee murmured, subsiding. "Just wearing off the Snape vibe." An odd fact, but it was in the classes of control freaks with the power to make your life a horror that Lee's mischievous tendencies kicked in.

"Lovely, Mr Jordan," said Professor Gondolin, pushing the final strand of hair into place (for now). "Now, if you'd all open at page fifty-four that would be helpful. There are various accounts there from different sides. I think you'll find the Roman one very amusing. Poor devils."

Everyone began to flip through their books to find their page. Apart from George Weasley. He was staring at Professor Gondolin as though she'd sprouted wings. He appeared to be particularly focused on her neck.

"Hey, Gred!" said Fred, waving a hand in front of his eyes. "I thought we agreed she was a stunner a while back. Now's not the time to go moony-eyed. We have important stuff to learn."

"Look at her neck, Fred," George whispered, face going red as he began blindly rifling through his book.

"Why would I want to look at her neck?" Fred asked. "It's a neck, not an art exhibition."

"Like you look at art exhibitions!" said George. "Just look and tell me what you see!"

So Fred looked. At first he saw nothing. Then, just as Professor Gondolin flicked back her head to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes he saw it. On the side of her neck, which was usually smooth and pale, a large red blotch stained the skin. And it was very large and very red. And judging by what he had seen last he saw her in the corridors, it had not been there.

That meant that, in the time between him seeing her after leaving Herbology on his way to Potions and now, that _someone_ had …

"Mr Weasley, are you quite alright?" he heard her voice ask.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, trying not to stare. "Just thinking."

"As long as it's not 'I wonder will the whoopy cushion work' I guess I should be grateful," said Professor Gondolin.

"Whoopy cushions are for amateurs," said Fred seriously.

"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr Weasley, but I am afraid that we have something to learn today. Now – yes Mr Spenner?"

Alex Spenner was not your typical spoiled Slytherin boy. Instead he was your spoiled Gryffindor jerk. And, judging by where he was looking and the mischievous glint in his eyes –

"I think something's happened to your neck, Professor," said Alex. Fred could hear the glee in his voice. _Damn you, Spenner!_

Turning, Fred was just in time to see a flash of panic in Professor Gondolin's eyes and the slight jerk of her hand before she spoke again, this time leaning so that her hair (already coming loose of her bun) covered as much of the spot as was possible. "I don't know what you mean, Mr Spenner," she said. "And why should _you_ be interested in _my_ neck?"

 _Because he's a stuck-up sicko, that's why!_

"It's kind of hard to miss, Professor," said Spenner, who seemed to be on the verge of bursting out laughing. Fred would have gladly strangled him.

The class was now looking very hard at Professor Gondolin. A few were wide-eyed and one Hufflepuff even dared to point, showing a friend where the mark was. Sad but true fact, it was big.

"I think you must be mist –" Suddenly she stopped midsentence. Her eyes went wide for a second and then she marched around her desk, pulled open a door, rifled around in it for a second and then pulled out a small, rather dusty mirror. She stared at it for second and then dropped it on the table. "Mo dhia!" she exclaimed, slipping into Gaelic for a second. She instantly strode to the door, swinging it open just in time for Snape to stumble through, nearly crashing into her.

"Is this going to become a habit?" Snape asked, regaining his balance. Then, seeing her face, "Oh Merlin, what happened now? What's that on your neck?"

"Get out of my way before I hex you into seventh hell, Severus Snape!" Professor Gondolin snapped, stepping briskly past him and marching away … where?

"I just came to ask about the – never mind."

Professor Snape threw up his hands in despair and then turned to face the class, folding his arms. "Who did it?" he asked, folding his arms.

"Did what?" someone asked.

"Put the mark there," said Snape, a muscle twitching in his face. "Making it look as if one of your professors has been engaged in unsavoury activity is hardly appropriate behaviour. Who did it?"

"None of us," said Alex, slouching in his chair, a gleeful grin on his face. "I don't think she needed any help getting it. At least not from us."

A few Gryffindors laughed. They abruptly stopped laughing as Snape glared them into silence.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr Spenner. And unless you have something vital to add to this conversation I would keep your overly large mouth shut," Snape snapped.

"But it's true," someone called. "None of us did anything."

Before Snape could open his mouth to respond, they heard a voice from further down the hall. A voice they had all come to know and hate. It was high and it was girlish and it tugged at every nerve in Fred's body.

"Why, Professor Gondolin! What are you doing out of class?"

"I was just going to fetch –"

"And my dear, what is that on your neck?"

As one, all the Hufflepuffs, almost all the Gryffindors, eighty percent of the Ravenclaws and half of Slytherins in the room groaned internally and sank a little further into their seats. Snape alone let out a loud groan and turned, pulling the door open.

Looking out, Fred had a first class view of the scene.

Umbridge and Professor Gondolin were standing opposite each other, Umbridge looking at Professor Gondolin intently. Professor Gondolin was turning a subtle, but increasingly darker shade of pink, contrasting nicely with her dark brown robes.

"Is that what I think it is, Professor Gondolin?" Umbridge asked, looking as though she was revelling in knowing 'what it was'.

"I –"

"Because if it is so then I will have to launch an enquiry into this and find out which one of the Professors here you are involved with and have both you and he –"

He couldn't take it. Fred literally couldn't take it. As he saw it, it was none of Umbridge's business of Professor Gondolin had a boyfriend. In fact good for her. It was evil of Alex to point it out and Fred was not going to have his second favourite teacher (between Flitwick and McGonagall) be fired. _Especially not by her!_

"I did it!" he cried, leaping from his seat and leaping past Snape and into the hallway, almost running over Umbridge as he arrived.

"A student, Professor Gondolin! I am shocked!" exclaimed Professor Umbridge, looking anything but shocked. Her eyes were positively glittering. "I will have to inform the boy's parents and –"

"No I mean I made it look like there was … it … there. It was a prank. A new spell that I've learned."

Umbridge narrowed her eyes at him, squinting up at him from her pitiful height. "Mr Weasley –"

"It's true!" called George, running past Snape. "He and I've been working on it together. We were going to try it on McGonagall but we didn't dare. So we did it on her as she came into class."

"Why I –"

"I was even a test subject," Angelina called, running after George. "And Lee helped them design it."

 _So now she's getting back at him for faulting that somersault of hers during the Quidditch match. Nasty._

"Is this true, Mr Jordan?" Umbridge called, looking as though she hoped it was not.

"Yep!" called Lee, putting on his best mischievous grin. "It's just a pity we never got round to the stage in the plan when everyone thinks she's with Snape!"

Right on queue all the Gryffindors (and a few brave Ravenclaws present) burst into peals of laughter, as though agreeing with the statement.

"Well, Mr Weasley," said Umbridge, apparently defeated. "In that case, detention with Mr Filch for all of you for the rest of the week. And fifty points from Gryffindor each. Now get back to class, Professor Gondolin. I expect you to have figured out a way to reverse the spell by dinner tonight."

As Fred slid into the classroom again he was surprised to hear a voice drawl. "Mr Weasley."

Looking up he saw Professor Snape, glaring down at him. Oh great. More points deducted. "Well done, Weasley. You'd have done well in Slytherin … if you hadn't gone and given it away in the end."

"She's one of the best teachers in the school," he pointed out. "And I don't get good teachers fired," he said, making an obvious hint at Lupin's absence.

For a second fires of anger leapt to light in Snape's eyes. Then they returned to a normal dull black. "I will overlook that attempt at cheek, Weasley. Ten points to Gryffindor." Then he was gone.

Fred stared after him. Ten points to Gryffindor? I mean, it was barely a dent in the two hundred points that Umbridge had taken off but still … Snape had given a Gryffindor points. Hm … long walks in the afternoons, correcting homework late into the night, points for defending her … suspicious hickies. He would have to talk to Ron and his friends about this. This was something that simply could not be missed.

 **Just thought I'd post this while the events of 'Suspicious Marks' are still fresh in your minds. What will Fred and George uncover with help from the Golden Trio? You'll find out later after we've skipped back in time and dealt with Eowyn and Severus' bet. I personally can't wait! *insert childish squeal here* :)**


	18. Living Hell

Hell – 1992

"I enjoyed that," said Hermione, straightening her frizzing hair, a small, satisfied smile on her face. Of course she'd guessed all the potions and their uses right the first time.

"You're bloody kidding me!" exclaimed Ron, running after her. "That was the best Potions lesson we've had since day one! It was great!"

"And Neville barely made a single mistake," said Harry, unable to repress his grin. "Well done by the way, Neville," he added.

"I enjoyed it," said Neville simply.

"I should think so!" said Ron. "Who knew that acorns have magical properties? Or that cherry blossom is mildly poisonous to pixies? We should tell Lockhart that, ay Harry!"

"I keep telling you, Professor Lockhart may have a rather _different_ teaching method to all the others but –"

"That was LIVING HELL!"

That particular exclamation came from down the hallway, as a group of disgruntled (and in some cases tear stained) first years burst into the entrance hall. The girl who had spoken was tall and thin with long black hair that was coming out of a haphazard braid. Her Ravenclaw robes were in a mess and her shoes (laced up boots) were splattered with mud. "I swear," she continued, "that the greasy git has it in for us all! A ten page essay on International Wizarding Conventions throughout the centuries – for tomorrow! Merlin's overgrown toenails! Does he think we have extra hands or something?"

"Cool it, Alyss," said a shorter, red haired girl in Slytherin robes. "If he hears you he'll give you another dozen or so detentions."

"I take it you had Snape for History of Magic," said Hermione, approaching the younger students.

"How did you guess?" asked a plump, brown-haired Gryffindor boy, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"And we have to do a bloody test at the end of the week too!" exclaimed the girl who was called Alyss. "Personally I'm not going to revise for it! The old vampire can give me a thousand detentions, the highest grade he's getting from me is a Troll and that is my last word!" And with that she began stomping down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, muttering things under her breath.

The red haired Slytherin girl rolled crystal-blue eyes to the ceiling and ran after her friend, swiftly followed by her classmates, many still grumbling.

Ron whistled. "Someone's not popular!"

"She knew!" exclaimed Hermione, a look of wonder on her face.

"Who knew what?" Ron asked, confused.

"Professor Gondolin," said Hermione. "She knew what Professor Snape would be like this. She knew the students would hate it. That's how we're going to win! Because all of them are going to hate him so much they won't revise for their test or, if they're going to be blatantly disobedient, they'll answer questions wrongly on purpose!"

"But what's the point?" Harry asked, confused. "Why did they make the bet in the first place?"

"I'm sure it's got something to do with Neville," said Ron.

"That would make sense," said Hermione, a thoughtful expression on her face. "She's trying to prove to him that his teaching methods do not work. She's trying to make him change."

"Snape? Change?" Ron looked as though he was going to burst with laughter at the mere thought. "Hell will have frozen over long before that."

 **I'm starting to like Alyss Black and Natalie Skelet. Maybe when this fic's done we can come back to them ... Oh well, I'll think about it. Anyway, enjoy! :)**


	19. Trust

Trust Issues – 1992

Why was it that students all assumed that all their teachers were deafer than mile-thick posts? What's more, the more hostile the teacher, the deafer they apparently became in the students' point of view. By the time he arrived at the staffroom that evening he had heard himself and his class criticised by no less than twenty-four separate people of all ages, genders and houses. It had taken all his willpower not to deduct fifty points from his own house when Augustus Doyle, a Slytherin prefect, said, "Just because the sad old tramp's alone and a Mudblood doesn't mean he's got the right to treat the rest of us like ignorant Muggles! He should be fired! I wish the Headmaster hadn't stood up for him back in the war. Then maybe he'd be rotting in Azkaban instead of making our lives living hell."

He collapsed into his signature chair (high-backed, Victorian and a brooding grey) and instantly called for a House Elf to bring him a large hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and cream. As he sipped the warm beverage he felt some of the stress of the day easing. It was a while since he had anything to do with History of Magic and he had a nagging feeling that having them repeat the same facts over and over again was not the way it was supposed to be done.

 _With my luck the secret will either be something beyond my understanding or beyond my standards._

He wondered if anyone else would know. Albus probably would ( _because he knows EVERYTHING_ ). Minerva might. But that would only prove what she was saying back at the staff table about how they both had no clue what they were doing. No. His pride would not allow it. That left Filius Flitwick as the only sane member of staff worth approaching over it. He was considering doing it as Filius and Minerva entered the staffroom together, chatting amiably.

Filius was saying, "And then Lucius asked me," – here he did a surprisingly accurate imitation of Lucius Malfoy's posh, stiff-lipped accent – "'and on what date did this _memorable_ event occur, Professor'."

"I'm surprised you didn't take ten points off then and there!" exclaimed Minerva.

"Well in fairness he'd said nothing wrong," Flitwick pointed out.

"Filius," said Minerva in her most serious voice, "Lucius Malfoy has a talent for saying nothing wrong. It's the way he says it that counts. And I've heard that insolent, sarcastic tone several hundred times too many in my life. So what did you do then?"

Filius smiled that amused little smile of his. "I politely reminded him that I have about as much of a knack for history as he did for paying attention. I do not think he ever used that tone with me again."

 _Oh, damnit! Of course!_

 _Well, I guess that leaves the hooligan herself._

"Well lucky for you," said Minerva. "I had to endure him and his backstabbing sarcasm for another _four years_."

Filius laughed lightly. "You're too serious, Minerva. You've got to learn to play around with them a little."

"Oh, I like the sound of this." It was her. "What is it now, Minerva? Did you bring the kittens over?"

"What kittens?" asked Filius.

"You and your big Irish mouth!" Minerva exclaimed, giving Eowyn a playful shove.

"As I say a million times a day," Septima reminded her friend, sliding into the room. The entrance was getting rather crowded, Severus noticed.

"So, Minerva," said Filius, "take a seat and tell us about these kittens."

Rolling her eyes, Minerva took her own chair and chanted a quick spell to get the utensils making her colleagues' favourite drinks. Severus often envied his fellow professors that. He could never get such spells to work.

"May I sit next to you?" she asked. She was standing a little behind his chair, a pile of books in her arms. All Potions books now, he saw. He supposed he should be studying History of Magic if he wanted to win this bet, but really, his head felt as though a leprechaun was dancing a jig in his forehead.

"Well unless you intend to hover on air I do not see how that is possible, Professor Gondolin," he drawled.

Eowyn smiled slightly. "No, Professor Snape. Unlike you high and mighty folk I am quite willing to sit on the floor."

They were still for a few seconds, her standing and him still seated. Realising that she was waiting for his consent he nodded and she instantly seated herself on his right, crossing her legs and stretching them out over the floor, kicking off her boots.

She did not wear any stockings underneath, he saw. Her feet were bare. They were very narrow, rather like his, but cross hatched with scars. He wondered what other scars she had, apart from the ones he had already seen. Then it occurred to him that such scars were in places that he was not meant to see and he hastily diverted that train of thought, instead focusing on Minerva's story of how she had begun an unofficial cat rescue centre while on holiday with her family. The woman would never cease to amaze him.

"Professor Gondolin," he said presently.

"How was your day?" she asked. Then, "Actually I won't ask. Judging by what I heard in the halls it wasn't too good."

"Let me put it this way, Professor Gondolin, I have not had a worse headache than since I was forced to attend a Ministry meeting and listen to Fudge droning on for five hours about all the problems we faced in the wake of the Dark Lord's defeat."

"Half of which have not been solved," she muttered, picking up a cup of coffee and a chocolate biscuit as Charity passed them around. "But anyway. Back to your headache. What seems to be your biggest problem?"

He stared down at her, trying to fathom her motives. Why was she asking him this? Was it so that she could plot out his weaknesses and use them against him in some way? Was it because she had a problem of her own that she was facing and wanted to do an exchange?

 _Or maybe, if you can bring yourself to stop behaving like a cynical, conspiracy theorist old fool, you will realise that she just genuinely wants to help you!_

But did she?

It was not in Severus' character to be trusting. Rather it was in his character to be the opposite and assume the worst of people. But she was so open. So honest. Hufflepuff honest in fact.

She was sprawling across the floor, propped up on her left elbow with a mug of steaming coffee in her right hand with a pile of books to one side, looking up at him.

 _Looking up?_

It occurred to him that only one or two people he knew would feel comfortable to be _looking up_ at Severus Snape. And they were all very powerful Death Eaters. It was a vulnerable position, displaying a level of trust and certainty.

She trusted him?

The idea was ludicrous. No one trusted him. All right, Lucius trusted him … to an extent. And Narcissa trusted him. Draco didn't count. He was young and arrogant. Would the Dark Lord? Severus had his doubts. The sad truth was the only person who really trusted him was Albus Dumbledore. And Dumbledore was not what you would describe as the vulnerable kind.

 _Not that she looks particularly vulnerable. And judging by what I heard she's been a flipping auror for years._

But still, the truth was there. She was comfortable in his presence. She _trusted_ him.

 _Trust can be born of ignorance._

But everyone knew that Severus Snape had been a Death Eater. All that they didn't know was that he was a double agent. And that was hardly incriminating information. Just world-changingly vital.

He was tempted to try Legilimency on her, but he had a feeling at the pit of his stomach that she would know if he did. Furthermore, he had his pride, and he was not going to admit that he, Severus Snape, the most accurate judge of character in the entire school (or so he thought) was contemplating using something as basic as Legilimency to plumb the depths of a new teacher's character. So instead he said, "If you have been led to believe that I have encountered any problems during my lessons then I am afraid you have been misinformed, Professor Gondolin."

Eowyn shook her head. _You proud numpty! You're so caught up in believing that you have to be able to do everything that you won't accept my help. How stupid can you get?_

Keeping her tone even she said, "History is one big story, Severus. Remember that."

"And why should I need to do so?" he asked. She could sense more than see his raised eyebrow.

Turning around she looked him directly in the eye. Deep, water blue met night black. And at the same time each saw exactly what the other was thinking. No Legilimency was required. "Because learning by rote is not how children learn, Professor Snape," she said presently, still not looking away. "I only learned anything through what I saw and did and said myself. Not through what others did. And you were the same. I think that's why you like Potions. Because you can see and do everything yourself. That's why History of Magic is harder. It's a book subject not a do subject."

Severus' eyes lit up slightly, a spark glittering in the dark eyes. "Who says it has to be?" he asked, rising from his seat and striding out of the room with a purposeful look on his face.

 **And now things get interesting! Woohoo! :)**


	20. Change of Tactics

Change of Tactics – 1992

"So what do we have next, History with the tyrant?" Alyss Black asked, as the first year class filed out of the room.

"Yup," said Natalie, shoving her timetable into her pocket with a sigh.

"D'you think he'll make us sit in those horrible old desks again?" asked Jamie McRue, a Hufflepuff boy with reddish brown hair that simply wouldn't stop falling in his eyes.

"Of course he will, damn him!" said Alyss, rolling her grey eyes to the ceiling.

"Alyss! Language!" exclaimed Natalie, giving her friend a dig in the ribs.

"Well you'd swear too if you had to live with a raving aunt who constantly curses the day her husband got carted off to Azkaban!" said Alyss.

"I still can't believe an auror would use the Cruciatus Curse on your aunt," said Jamie, "even if she tried to claw a man's eyes out when your uncle was taken off to Azkaban."

"One thing you've got to know, Jamie," said Alyss, as she flung open the door to Professor Gondolin's cabin, "the world is a much harsher place than you can possibly imagine."

"Words of wisdom, Miss Black. Now if you would be so kind as to wipe your boots like a civilised Ravenclaw before you enter Professor Gondolin's house I may not remove any points." Professor Snape's bored, authorative drawl had all three jumping.

"Sorry, Professor," said Jamie. "We just thought you'd –"

"Be brooding up your professor's 'classroom' as though I have nothing better to do? No, Mr McRue. Now, since you are the first to arrive, I will instruct you to go out in the grounds where the flying lessons are held. And no, Miss Skelet, there are no flying lessons being held at this moment. I am not as idiotic as seems to be the general consensus around this school." He said that last bit fixing Alyss with a very hard, glittering gaze, making it clear that he knew what _her_ general consensus was if him.

oo0oo

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Jamie, as they entered the grounds.

It was. It was like a huge map, hovering in mid-air. Except that it was three-dimensional. And everything looked so real. He could see that every tree and every rock was done in meticulous detail. And when he reached out a hand to touch a mountaintop he was surprised to find it rough and rocky and _real_ beneath his hand.

"It's a map of Ireland," Natalie breathed.

"And it's floating a flipping half a metre above the ground!" said Alyss.

"I can see the little people!" exclaimed Jamie.

Indeed, small miniature people were moving about in various towns and settlements.

"This must have been quite a while ago," said Alyss. "Before the Normans came."

"But what's the point of this?" Natalie asked. "I mean, it's a map, there are people, it's real and it's flipping mind-blowing but –"

"Look, he left rules!" exclaimed Jamie, pointing to a roll of paper on the ground.

Picking it up they found the following written down:

 _We will be studying the war between Ulster and Munster that took place many years ago in Ireland. The class will be divided in two, one side to play the role of Munster and the other Ulster. When these two teams have been chosen both shall be sealed off from the other with the portion of map belonging to them. Magical spells cast will mean that those who are on one team cannot hear what the others speak or see what they are doing on the other side. Unless …_

 _Both teams shall be presented with the same amount of information as the Kings of Ulster and Munster would have been in possession of. With this knowledge they can prepare for war. These decisions will magically affect the desired events to occur on the board. One such decision is to have spies be sent out to hunt for information to the other side's map (little magical spies not one of the team members). As they bring back information the other person's side of the map will begin to appear alongside yours, becoming more detailed as you gain information and making it easier for you to plan attacks. When a resolution has been reached (not necessarily this lesson) I will inform you of your mistakes and teach you of what actually occurred. In this way you will not only learn what happened, but why, having experienced to an extent the difficulties of fighting a war yourselves._

 _Professor Snape_

"It's just like a video game!" exclaimed Jamie, clapping his hands like a two-year-old at Christmas.

"Someone changed his tune," Natalie murmured.

 **And the change begins. Once more I hope you like it and also thank you to AnimeFan001 for telling me what those letters mean. Finally! :)**


	21. We've Got To Win This

We've Got To Win This – 1992

"Alright, guys, this is serious!" said Ron, running to catch up with Harry and Hermione after Charms class.

"What's serious?" Harry asked, confused.

"We've got to win Gondolin's bet!" said Ron, his face set in a firm I-will-not-be-messed-with scowl. "Snape isn't got to know what hit him! We've got to thrash this Potions test!"

"Why the sudden enthusiasm?" Hermione asked, suspicious.

"You'll never guess what happened in Snape's History of Magic class with the first years," said Ron darkly.

"Well tell us then!" said Harry.

"It was fun!" hissed Ron.

"What?" gasped Harry and Hermione at once.

"He did some fancy magic thing that made them able to understand history a _fun_ way! And now some of them are talking about actually studying for the test. And even if they don't they will _remember_ a good bit anyway because it was so bloody interesting! We've got to nail this guys! We've got to study until our brains explode and then some! Outstandings, Harry! D'you hear me? Now I need to go and persuade Fred and George to try hard as well! Bloody hell we've got to win this! If the git wins in won't be able to forgive myself!"

And with that Ron ran down the corridors at top speed, chanting as many facts about Potions as he could remember.

 **Tension! And I know it's short. The next one's coming right up. All hail some angst. :)**


	22. Legilimency

Legilimency – 1992

Tomorrow was the final day of their experiment. Tomorrow all the students would be tested. Before forty-eight hours had passed, he was sure they would know the results.

What had surprised him the most during this experiment was how much thought his lessons had taken. There had been preparation needed, as he thought out different, more interesting ways to teach lessons. At first it had been tedious. But then, as the week wore on, he began to find it enjoyable, relishing the thought challenge. He had even been able to strike up a sort of tentative friendship with Natalie Skelet and from the brief talks he had with her, he deduced that Professor Gondolin had done a lot more for the girl than simply hold her mother down in labour.

He was sitting in the staffroom, drawing up the Potions test. It felt odd and yet somehow satisfactory to be getting back to his Potions. He found himself wondering who would win. He had not worried about it at first and then he had been too caught up in planning interesting lessons to worry. Now he had time. And to his surprise there was a knot in his stomach.

She could win. Judging by what he had heard, his students thoroughly enjoyed her classes and many (even Weasley for goodness sake) were studying hard for the test, with every spare second they could catch. What if her method of teaching _was_ more effective? What if she won?

 _But it's hardly been a fair test. You have changed your method of teaching in the experiment. This is not a test of your method against hers anymore. It is …_

Maybe it wasn't a test at all. Maybe it was meant to make him change all along. Maybe –

"Mind if I sit next to you? I promise I won't peak."

He did not look up as he nodded his head and returned to his paper. He heard a rustle of cloth and then the sound of her boots hitting the floor.

"Back on the floor again are we?" he asked, still not looking up.

"Yep!" she replied.

There was a rustle of paper and, looking over, Severus saw that she too was working on the test.

 _It would be so easy just to look over it and –_

He snatched his gaze away.

 _She trusts you. You cannot._

But what reason was there for her to trust him? Damn her, why did she have to be so Hufflepuff about it?

"I have a question for you," he said, casting a glance her way. She was still sprawling across the floor, just like the last time, hair coming free of the constraints of her bun and with a splatter of mud on her cheek.

"Ask away," she said with a smile, still working on her paper.

"Did you intend for this to happen?"

"What to happen?" She was looking up at him now, frowning slightly in confusion.

"Me to change my teaching method," he said, looking her straight in the eyes, searching for any kind of deceit. He was _not_ going to use Legilimency on her. He would _not_ stoop to that level. He would find out through her reactions, the way he had for so many years.

"I did not intend for it to happen, Professor Snape," she said, not looking away. "I merely hoped that you would. But it was a faint hope."

"Why? Why are you interested in Longbottom? What has he ever done for you?"

She smiled slightly at that. It was not a happy smile. It was a sad one, almost pitying. And he did not like being pitied.

When she spoke her voice was so soft that he could barely hear it. It was meant for his ears alone. "Sometimes, Professor Snape, people do not do things because they have to. Or even because they want to. They do them because they know right from wrong."

"Are you suggesting that I do not know right from wrong, Professor?"

"No. I am stating that sometimes they can be hard to distinguish between."

She had struck a chord. The truth was that Severus _had_ often wondered about the difference between right and wrong. But he could never seem to come to a proper conclusion. In the end he was forced to admit that he had lied and killed too many times for him to be sure. He simply did, now.

"If by that you mean that I am in some way astray, Professor Gondolin –"

"Why, Eowyn! How lovely to see you!" _Damn you, Lockhart!_

It was indeed Gilderoy Lockhart, standing in the doorway of the staffroom with his best charming grin on his face and dressed in flowing purple robes which Severus would not be seen dead in. Glancing over at Eowyn, Severus immediately saw her tense up, shoulders becoming rigid and one hand clenching slightly as it rested on the floor. She raised herself to a sitting position, very different to her sprawling, relaxed pose of a moment before.

"Hello, Lockhart," was her glacial reply.

"It's a wonderful day isn't it, Eowyn," said Lockhart, blundering on despite the obvious look of horror on Professor Gondolin's face. "A perfect day for a walk don't you think? Just you and I out by the lake …"

He continued in that vein, as the look of panic on Professor Gondolin's face intensified. Severus sat back and watched. It was miraculous how persistent the man could be, he thought. Even after she had rebuffed him so many times, he still insisted. It was strange, he thought, how Eowyn was so relaxed around him, an ex-Death Eater, content to be half sprawling across the floor, while when Lockhart, a harmless, handsome (dunderheaded) writer came in she instantly became more strung up than Mad-Eyed Moody.

"Lockhart, I –"

"The test of your students can wait, Eowyn. I'm sure they'll understand perfectly, knowing that you spent the afternoon with me. I insist …"

Eowyn shot Severus a glance, dark blue eyes wide with panic. _**Help me!**_

The thought came into his mind without warning. It was her voice, edged with panic.

 _**Who taught you Legilimency?**_ he hissed back.

 _**Dumbledore**_ was her reply _**what about you?**_

 _The Dark Lord._

He hadn't intended her to see or hear that. But she had. Her eyes went wide and the words _**Of course**_ flashed into his brain for a second before she shut her mind to his.

Anger hit him like a punch in the stomach. Of course. Of course. Standing up he glowered down at her. For a second he was sure he saw her shrink back slightly. Then he turned to Lockhart, who was still jabbering, completely unaware of the wordless conversation that had been exchanged.

"That is a wonderful idea, Professor Lockhart," he said, his voice slipping into a silky drawl. "Professor Gondolin could indeed do with some time away. Especially with you. She has even told me that she needed someone to go to Hogsmeade with her to have a new dress made for her. Apparently there is a man that she has to impress."

And then he was gone. There. He had well and truly framed her. Now Lockhart would think that she was trying to impress him and go after her more than ever. Serve her right. Of course.

"There I was thinking she was different," he hissed to himself. "Thinking she was trusting. Maybe she's just stupid. Or playing with me." Trying to make him think he had found someone who he had a chance to be a friend with and then this. Maybe she just wanted him as a distraction from Lockhart. He remembered her taking his hand when he helped her up in the library. Had that been to antagonise Lockhart, who stood barely a metre away? Now that he thought about it he could not think up another feasible reason. No one just _accepted_ help from Severus Snape.

It had been a while since he had wanted to be drunk, to slip into the oblivion that drink offered. But now he did. So he pulled out his emergency bottle of firewhisky from its dark corner and opened it. Then he locked the door to his rooms and settled back in a chair, pouring himself a glassful of the alcohol and downing it in one swallow, ignoring the burning feeling in his throat.

 **Yes, Snape can be a real jerk when he wants to be. But don't panic people. It's only 1992. There's still time. :)**


	23. A Day with the Dandy

A Day with a Dandy – 1992

If Eowyn had disliked Lockhart before this encounter she _loathed_ him now. Firstly she had been forced to endure his constant chatter on the way from the castle to Hogsmeade, where he alternated between insulting her appearance and bragging about his own accomplishments. By the time they arrived at Hogsmeade she was ready to strangle the man – and Snape too for that matter. What had he gotten her into?

There he took her to this way-too-expensive café where he insisted upon showing her off to every waiter who passed. By the time they got out of that place she was sure that everyone in the village new that she was Gilderoy Lockhart's 'girlfriend'. She was already getting jealous looks and bared teeth from some of the girls in the village. It took all her willpower not to step away from him and shout, "He's all yours if you want him!" In fact she might just do that. But Ravenclaw pride, you know.

She was almost pleased when he took her to Tomes and Scrolls, but instantly became aggravated again when she realised it was only so he could buy her a copy of all of his books in the most expensive binding possible.

Eowyn had been raised by Minerva McGonagall for the major part of her life, and she there was a list of things which a respectable McGonagall never did. One of them was 'never overspend'. It's a waste. Just like Lockhart. A waste of time. She was seriously considering wilfully forgetting her Ravenclaw pride and tearing him limb from limb like Fenrir Greyback used to do to his victims back in the First Wizarding War.

Finally he took her to the dressmakers, to have her measured for the dress. _Damn you, Severus Snape!_ She was handed over to a middle-aged woman who took her into a stall full of string, cloth and measuring tapes to be measured, while one of the younger workers flirted with Lockhart. That was fine by Eowyn. Totally, one hundred percent fine.

"Tell me, dear," said the woman as she closed the door, "did he drag you down here or are you really his girlfriend?"

"Well I wouldn't say I was dragged," said Eowyn bitterly, beginning to undo the buttons of her dress so that she could be measured, "but a _friend_ of mine gave me a bit of a push in the right (sorry – wrong) direction."

"Ah, I know how you feel, lass," said the woman, pulling out a measuring tape. "I've had that done to me more'n a few times."

"Well this is a first for me and it kind of hurts to have all the women in the area glaring at you like a horde of angry alley cats. No offence to cats." How did she end up having this conversation half undressed with a woman she didn't even know about a man she did not want to know?

"That's why handsome men are a problem," said the woman. "Someone else always wants them. And the problem with being a pretty girl is that everyone wants to _be_ you because you get the handsome men."

"I'm not pretty," said Eowyn stoically, blushing a little. "And I'm thirty. Hardly a girl."

The woman smiled. "And that's another thing men like and women hate. A girl who won't admit that she's got looks. And just so you know, darling, if you want people to think you're thirty, you've got to start acting like it."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Eowyn.

"What I mean, dear, is that you've got to start wearing your hair in a tight bun and your feet in little shoes and your body in a loose dress."

"Ouch," said Eowyn.

First of all, tight buns just didn't happen. For one thing, they made her head hurt, for another, in the end her hair would just come out anyway. And she didn't look good in it either. Loose, she looked like she had a halo coming out of her head. Ponytail, a whip fit to lash a bull to death. Loose bun/French twist. Fine, she looked good like that. But tight buns were something for Minerva McGonagall and, much as she loved and admired her surrogate mother, Eowyn refused to adopt that particular part of her life.

As for changing her shoes, it was out of the question. Unless you wanted them ruined and your feet covered in some creature's business, boots were essential. And Lockhart didn't like them. There, three birds with one stone. Not that Eowyn was into killing birds. Birds were nice. And free.

Long dresses? Same thing. They'd be ruined in a day. And they impeded your movement. You couldn't run, jump or ride a broom properly, all essential parts to Eowyn's exercise routine. (After all, if Voldemort rose again, she was going to need to be fighting fit by then.) No way.

"I think I'm just going to have to take the risk," she sighed, just as the woman finished measuring her up.

"Well," said the woman, as Eowyn buttoned herself up again, "I can see why Lockhart likes you."

"Why?" asked Eowyn. "Because I would really like to know what I can do to deter his attractions."

The woman smiled. "Well I'm afraid this thing can only be changed by you ruining your health."

"Smoking? Drugs? Becoming a drunkard?" Eowyn asked, rattling off the three worst things she figured she could do to herself.

"Getting fat or thin," said the woman, rolling up her measure.

"What do you mean?" Eowyn asked, frowning.

"Let me put it this way, darling. You've got a figure and a pretty face. And that's one thing all men like."

"Really? I mean, I knew men were thick, but I never thought they were _that_ thick."

"Hate to break it to you, dear, but they are."

"Damnit!" muttered Eowyn. Then, "Now what else do I have to do before I go out there and face the rap music."

The woman smiled, her aging features crinkling into a smile. "Now you have to choose the dress design, the material and the colours."

"Oh, well that's fine," said Eowyn. "That's something I can take ages on. Maybe by that time the village will have found their missing idiot."

Eowyn was never sure when she had started liking designing things. It had probably begun with her sister Arwen's fascination with fashion, which she had transmitted on to her sister (to an extent). Eowyn would never be the fashion geek that her older sister was, but that didn't mean that she didn't have class in her own way. For example, she would always make sure that her clothing colours (however drab) always corresponded and worked well together. So while her sister strutted across the with half the men in the courtroom drooling after her in an expensive blouse, a pencil skirt and four inch stilettos she rushed around Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry dressed in her classic loose-fitting but tastefully wrapped dresses and knee-length boots which she had owned since she was six (she'd enlarge them over time).

"Well first of all we've got this new design in from the Middle East."

"Too much cleavage exposure. Next."

"This?"

"Frumpy skirt. Not in a million years."

"Thought you wouldn't like it. This?"

"Would make me look like a Death Eater. Pass."

"Too tight."

"I don't show leg."

"Boring."

"Please let me know the day that it became fashionable to resemble a cream puff."

"Might as well go out in my underwear."

"I'm not old enough for _that_!"

"Too expensive. Golly even the Malfoys can't afford that surely!"

"Wait, I like that."

It was a simple design. A dress which trod that often over-stepped line between flattering and revealing. The neckline was wide and V-shaped but not deep and the sleeves were flared slightly at the ends. It looked just tight enough to flatter her frame but just loose enough to not make her look unladylike. Not that she was ladylike. At least not most of the time.

"What colour would you like it made in? And in what material?" the woman asked, smiling in apparent approval of her choice.

"Deep blue," said Eowyn. "Not too dark though. See if you can find something sort of close to my eye colour. And as for fabric … Lockhart's paying for this so I may as well go expensive. Silk. Now I'd best be off. Wish me luck."

"I do, darling," said the older woman with smile. "It'll probably be ready in about a month. What are you going to do with it?"

"Don't know," said Eowyn with a grin. "If nothing comes up in the next year or so I could always give it to my sister and modify it to fit her. She'd love that."

"Goodbye, dear. The names Lina McGry if you ever need anything."

"And I'm Eowyn freaking Gondolin!" she called back.

oo0oo

It was getting dark as they were getting back and the night was still. She wished it was raining or windy or raining and windy. At least that way she would have had something to distract her from Lockhart's endless jabber. He was a peacock, she thought, always strutting around, searching for attention and spreading his feathers. He disgusted her. Even more now that she thought back on what Lina had said.

 _So he likes me because I happen to have curves and a pretty face. Lovely._

She could just about have dealt with him harassing her because he _loved_ her. It would drive her round the bend and she would still hate him, but this. This was just taking wrong to another level. And speaking of wrong, she was going to kill Professor Snape for this. Her friends would help her bury the body. Maybe he and Lockhart could share a grave. She could bet Snape would turn in said grave if that were to happen.

Finally they arrived at the steps up to the Entrance Hall. Here he halted her with a hand on his arm, turning so that she faced him.

 _If he thinks I'm going to kiss him he's off his rocker._

"That was a thoroughly enjoyable evening," he said.

 _For you._

"When should we do it again?"

 _How about the first of Never!_

"Lockhart, let me make one thing clear, I am about as interested in you as I am in the idea of becoming a maggot." Her voice was harsh. Good. She it would be good practice for Snape.

But Lockhart (damn him!) would not be thrown off so easily. "I know that it is sometimes hard to accept such feelings, Eowyn."

"I don't know what feelings your talking about!" she snapped.

 _Slap the idiot._

 _Slap the idiot._

 _Slap the idiot._

"Maybe I could persuade you otherwise." He leaned his head forward slightly. She could smell him.

 _Crikey! Is that perfume?_

 _Of course. I should have seen that coming._

"Hey, Lockhart! Are you going to stand out there trying to flirt with my friend all night or are you going to come in and clean up after your latest disaster!" It was Septima, standing in the Entrance Hall with her hands on her hips, a shawl around her loose white nightgown and her long black hair in a braid, ready for bed.

Lockhart muttered something which sounded suspiciously like 'mood killer' and darted up the stairs to rectify his 'latest disaster'. Eowyn remained standing there for a while before ascending the stairs to where Septima stood.

"So," said Septima, her face twisted in a knowing smirk. "Sleep or revenge first?"

 _You know me so well._

"Revenge I think."

"Want back up? I warn you, you aren't the only one who's been on a date. It seems Lockhart's departure was the cue for all the staff to take the evening off. Auriga and Charity both hooked a man and judging by the way Auriga's snoring there are going to be some head-ouchies tomorrow morning."

"No, I'm fine on my own," said Eowyn. "You go to sleep."

"Right," said Septima, yawning. "I'm going to be in bed but if you need to talk or need help digging the grave come anyway. Goodnight."

 **This story is starting to bare a startling resemblance to my high school days. Anyway, hope you like it and yes, don't worry, both the dress and Eowyn's sister will make an appearance later. Read, review and enjoy please! :)**


	24. Alcohol's Power

The Power of Alcohol – 1992

The last time Eowyn had marched through the dungeons with this much purpose had been when she had come to challenge Snape over his treatment of Neville. Now she was here to challenge him over his treatment of her. She wasn't sure on which occasion she was angrier.

Coming to his door she rapped on it three times, loudly. No answer.

"I swear if you are ignoring me …!"

She rapped again, this time louder. Her hand hurt. She didn't care.

"Open up, Snape, before I break the door down!" she yelled, not caring who heard.

 _It's ten o'clock at night. No one but Filch and the twins are about._

This time there was a reply. "Leave me alone, Gond'lin! Go chat t'your silly creatures 'nstead!"

She frowned, now concerned. That was definitely Professor Snape's voice but it was slurred and thick. She had heard that before. When Mad-Eye was drunk his voice sounded like that.

Severus Snape. Drunk? She hadn't known him for long but she was fairly certain that it was not only a rare occurrence … it was a non-existent one.

 _But why would he get drunk?_

 _If he felt guilty._

She couldn't help but smile slightly. What if he was guilty for what he'd done? He'd better be.

 _Or angry._

Oh. If he was still angry with her then this was not going to be pretty.

Taking a deep breath Eowyn called, "I'm coming in, Professor Snape."

"Go 'way!"

"I don't take orders from drunken men, Professor!" Eowyn called.

He had put a spell on the door to lock it but that was quickly remedied with a quick "Alohomora". Stepping into his room she was forced to mutter, "Lumos." The fire was dying in the grate and there were no other lights. By the light emitting from the tip of her wand she could see him hunched over in his chair, dark hair falling in greasy curtains in front of his face, a half empty bottle of firewhiskey in one hand.

 _Well that's not so bad._

Then she saw the other two bottles of the same liquid lying on the ground.

"Never mind," she murmured.

At the sound of her voice he looked up. His eyes were slightly fogged up and watering, probably from downing so much strong alcohol in extreme quantities. She could smell his breath from here.

"I told you t'leave." His slurred attempt at a dangerous hiss should have been comical. But all Eowyn could feel was pity.

"And I told you I don't take orders from drunks," said Eowyn, seating herself opposite him.

"And I don' like being cheated!" he spat, swigging down another mouthful of the golden liquid.

Eowyn rolled her eyes. What was it in alcohol that made people lose their sense of reason? "Tell me, Professor Snape, when did I cheat you?"

"When you used me as a blockade 'gainst Gild'roy effing Lockhart!" He took another swig of his drink, wincing slightly.

"What?" gasped Eowyn. His mind really was addled.

"'Cause I'm not much more'n that t'you? Just something t'get in th'way of Lockhart. An' then when yaremember who I am – a Death Eater," – he spat out those last two words with such venom that Eowyn flinched – "you're all shocked. 'Cause I ne'er occurred t'you that I had a life beyond this place and time!"

"You're very, very drunk, Professor Snape," she murmured.

He glared at her. Well, he tried. But in his drunken state it looked more like a sulky child's frown. "Get out!" he grated, gesturing in the vague direction of the door with his bottle. "Don't wan' to talk!"

"I would hardly call this talking," Eowyn murmured. "More like rambling." Then, louder, "No, Professor Snape, I'm not leaving and you are putting down that bottle."

He glared at her and began raising the bottle to his lips. Face set in a determined frown, Eowyn stood up, marched up to him and snatched the bottle from his hand.

"No you don't!" she snapped, smashing the bottle on the floor. Dramatic maybe, but it did the trick.

He jumped, sitting upright and looking vaguely alert for the first time since she walked into the room. Then he glared at her, a proper glare this time at least and snarled, his words surprisingly clear, "I don't like liars in my rooms."

"You don't like people in general in your rooms last I heard so that hardly means anything. Now I'm going to go into your store."

"No y'don't!"

"Try to stop me!" she snapped, turning on her heel and marching to the door of his stores.

He tried to rise to his feet, legs shaking and clutching his head, cursing quietly. But he didn't make it. He collapsed down onto the chair, sweat beading his brow and looking slightly seasick. Eowyn felt no pity for him at all. This was why she made a point of only drinking champagne and only drinking it in moderate quantities.

She came out of his store a few minutes later with a small vial of clear liquid. "See this," she said, holding it up to the dim light so that he could see. "It's veritaserum. I'm going to drink it and you can accuse me of being a cheat all you like. You'll only get honest answers." Then, without waiting for his reaction, she unstopped the vial and drank it dry, ignoring his vague sounds of protest. She winced. Veritaserum was always sharp and bitter, making her tongue tingle.

Seating herself down she found him staring at her, dumbfounded. "To save you the arduous task of talking I'll say my piece first and then you can ask all the drunken questions you want," she stated. "Now, if this is about the fact that I was shocked that Voldemort had taught you Legilimency then I'm sorry. The truth is that I forgot you were a Death Eater. It's hard to think of you as one when I think of you as … well not a friend. More like someone who doesn't have a friend who I'd like to be friends with. The fact is you don't have many friends at all among the staff and I've personally always hated being lonely myself so –"

"Stop!" said Professor Snape, holding a hand up to silence her. She was rambling, a side effect of the veritaserum. Maybe she'd taken too much. It was almost as though they had switched roles. She was the one mindlessly jabbering and he was the one asking the questions. True, he still looked like he was going to be sick any second, but at least he was trying to talk clearly. "I want t'know why you let me help you up when you were trying to get away from Lockhart."

"Because you're usually a snarky jerk but you weren't being one then so I thought it was only fair. And yes, I did do it to make Lockhart feel jealous a little but mostly because as I said you're alone and –"

"Stop."

She halted, watching him, wondering what he was thinking. Finally he said, "What do you want me t'do if you win this competition?"

She tried to stop the words but they came pouring out of her anyway. "Well not acting like a jerk to everyone outside of Slytherin house would be a start. And letting the students not feel like they're going to drown in a sea of information that they don't understand at every turn. And taking off a million points a lesson isn't a good tactic …"

She continued in his vein for some time, until in the end her jaw hurt and she felt that she had fully plumbed the depths of all his faults and probably made him hate her for the rest of her life. When she was finished he was staring at the fire, looking deep in thought, which was quite an achievement for someone as drunk as he was. In an effort to try and balance the good with the bad she said, "But just so you know, I wouldn't mind getting to know you better. You strike me as an interesting person and I'm not particularly fond of boring people."

It suddenly occurred to her that she had come here with the sole purpose of thrashing the living daylights out of him for condemning her to spending the afternoon/evening with Lockhart. So she added, "But I'm still mad at you for letting Lockhart drag me to the village. Now everyone's going to think I'm his girlfriend or something."

To her surprise, his only response was a loud, wide yawn. "I think it's bedtime for someone's little boy," she murmured, rising to her feet.

He glared at her. "I don't need sleep."

"Last I looked you were a human, Professor Snape. Come on. Get up."

He continued to glare at her. "I don't need sleep." A huge yawn.

"Yes you do you idiot. Here's a remarkable thing called a shoulder. Grab on."

If glares could melt flesh she would have been a pile of mush on the floor. "I can walk myself," he snapped.

"Sure you can. Just not at this particular moment in time." She knelt down so that she was at his level and held out an arm. "Come on." He looked as though he was trying to glare but his facial muscles simply refused to co-operate, making for a rather comical effect.

Rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, Eowyn grabbed his left arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she put an arm around his and dragged him upright, bracing her body to bear the most of his weight.

He was not as heavy as she'd expected. All those billowing black robes made him seem taller and bulkier than he really was. He was very close to her, closer than Lockhart had been when he tried to kiss her. Unlike Lockhart (really, perfume?) he smelt pleasantly of old books and half-brewed herbs for potions. It was oddly pleasant. As she half dragged, half led him in the direction of what she hoped was his bedroom, kicking the door open rather unceremoniously, his head was resting against her shoulder. She could still smell his breath too. And it still smelt horrible.

Rummaging around in her pocket for a moment she pulled out a small white thing and offered it to him. "Take this. It's another helpful thing called a breath mint. You could do with it."

He didn't argue. Apparently a combination of natural exhaustion and lots of strong alcohol was just too much for him. Clearly he was not someone who took his alcohol very well.

His bed was surprisingly large for one person. She had been expecting something like a narrow, creaky little excuse of a thing. But then she guessed she had also expected his walls to be lined with severed heads so. As it was the bedroom followed a similar pattern to his other rooms. Lined with books and lit by the fire. But there was a slightly more comfortable, more homely feel to it.

The desk was small and not so piled with work and the chairs were lower, less high backed and more comfortable. On the mantel some black-and-white photos were framed. Ravenclaw curiosity had her drifting towards them, but Gryffindor honour (something that Minerva had firmly hammered into her over the years) demanded that he be given privacy. So she returned to the task of getting Severus Snape to bed without breaking a limb.

There wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to undress him and get him in his pyjamas. She was helpful, but she had her limits. So she simply took off his outer cloak and boots and left the rest of his clothes intact before letting him collapse rather unceremoniously into bed.

His head had barely hit the pillow before his eyes closed and he collapsed into sleep.

Yawning in her own exhaustion, Eowyn collapsed into a chair beside the fire, relishing the warmth. She could still feel the veritaserum coursing through her veins, a harsh reminder of what she had told him. She wondered if he would remember in the morning or if it would all be forgotten. She had a feeling it would not. Even drunk, he had shown surprising attentiveness. So he knew that she wanted him as a friend. He knew she wanted him to change. That was a problem. He did not like people wanting him to do or be things. And she could relate to that. But the fact was that his teaching methods were nothing short of cruel at times. And his blatant favouritism for Slytherin was not healthy. For the Slytherins' ego or the other students' attitude towards him. Who knew, maybe he couldn't be changed.

But Eowyn had a feeling that, if he was given the right chance … he might.

 _I should go now._

Her eyes were heavy. The chair was soft. The fire was warm. She was tired. She wanted to sleep. She was warm.

 _Just a few more minutes._

 **Hope you like it! :)**


	25. Awkward Awakenings

AWKWARD! – 1992

His head hurt. A lot. A throbbing pain rang through it like the beating of a silent gong and he felt as though every sound he made was magnified a hundred times. All he wanted to do was fall asleep and only get up when the pain left. But he couldn't. He had classes to teach and his alarm clock made it clear that he only had about half an hour left if he wanted to get to breakfast on time.

Sighing, he began the laborious task of crawling out of bed. Realising he was almost fully dressed in yesterday's clothes, he crossed over to his closet, pulling out a new set of (you guessed it) black robes. He began to get dressed all over again, cursing when (still clumsy from the effects of last night's drinking) he banged his knee on the closet side. Leaning down to pick up a dropped shirt he saw her sitting in the chair beside the fire.

 _Merlin help us all!_

 _Or more to the point, Merlin help me!_

His first reaction would probably have been to yell at her to get the hell out. Then he saw how her head was lolling to one side, partly hidden under a mess of brown hair, and how slowly and evenly she was breathing and he concluded that she was asleep. More to the point, she had been sleeping there all night.

Instantly all the memories from last night rushed back. To tell the truth they were rather blurry and what he could remember made him wince. She would probably never be able to look at him the same again after that particular incident. But one thing he remembered clearly. She had not meant to offend him. She wanted a friendship. And she'd helped him to bed.

 _And didn't change my clothes._

For that he was immensely grateful. If she had he was fairly sure he wouldn't have been able to look her in the eye again.

He quietly finished getting dressed and set about the morning task of washing his face. When he had done that he came back into the room and realised that she was still sitting there, sleeping.

 _I think I'll have to wake her up._

But he wasn't exactly sure how he should do that. From personal experience with Mad-Eye he knew that trying to wake an auror from sleep was a dangerous process. Also, waking her up meant getting close to her. And Severus liked his personal space, thank you very much.

 _I wonder would it be offensive if I poked her with a ten-foot pole._

He briefly considered it before realising that if she had done the same thing to wake him up he would probably have been offended beyond belief.

 _But since when did you care what other people thought._

 _Other people have never shown any interest in friendship._

 _So, the great Severus Snape wants to be friends with a round-the-bend Irish auror? How charming!_

He sat in the chair opposite her, considering his predicament as the time ticked on. He had to admit she did a good job of looking pretty and messy at the same time. Most women he knew (not many) would have struggled to do so. Especially with their hair in the state hers was. She was wearing a loose, dark purple dress, the trousers beneath a dark navy. She had taken her boots off again and for that he was glad. They would probably have traipsed a load of mud in with them. For the second time he noticed the scars on her feet. Strange how for most people scars are disfiguring but for her they somehow seemed to make her more beautiful.

He shook himself. Severus Snape did not simply think that someone was beautiful. If they had The Lord of the Rings movies back then there would have been a meme saying, "Severus Snape does not simply think someone is beautiful." But the truth was she did. Peaceful too. Her eyes were fully shut and for the first time he realised that her eyelashes were long and dark, like he remembered his mother's being. Even in her sleep what looked like a faint smile curved her mouth up slightly. She looked so content he hesitated to wake her for an entirely different reason. The idea of peace and contentment was not something that Severus was used to. When he had nothing else to do he brooded. Sulked. Studied. The idea of relaxation, of escaping from the world and its troubles, past and present, was not one of his strong points. But now, watching her lying there, a mess of hair and old, weather stained robes, he felt a small sense of peace. And he did not want to break it.

 _Well, you've got to wake her up._

With a sigh he rose and walked over, keeping as far away from her as possible before reaching out and touching her shoulder with the tip of one finger.

Nothing.

Of course. If he had touched a butterfly with that amount of pressure it wouldn't have noticed.

Steeling himself (yes, Severus Snape had to steel himself to touch a person) he risked putting his entire hand on her shoulder and squeezing slightly.

He couldn't help thinking that she was very warm and that her flesh beneath the cloth was very soft.

 _I know I rarely ask you to do this, brain, but could you please stop working for the next few minutes?_

His brain stubbornly refused. Damnit.

"Professor Gondolin," he tried, with another squeeze. He wasn't going to shake her. The last time he'd seen a women being shaken by a man it had been his mother being shaken by his father. It had not been a pretty sight and he was not going to replicate it. Even if he wasn't his father and she definitely wasn't his mother.

Nothing.

 _Merlin is it that tiring taking care of a drunk me?_

"Eowyn!" he hissed, accompanied by another squeeze. "Please wake up," he added to himself.

To his utmost relief she stirred slightly underneath his grip. Pulling away and taking a step back he waited patiently for her to sit up and push away the many rogue strands of hair that came in front of her eyes. She blinked at him for a few moments then mumbled, "I'm still angry at you for condemning me to a day with Lockhart, you know."

"You must remember to tell me all about it," he said, keeping up a sarcastic drawl.

"You bet I will," she said, struggling sleepily into a standing position. "Now, where are my boots? I need them."

"I don't know. I was the one who was drunk, remember," he said, walking over to the door that led to his main quarters.

"And very drunk you were," she said, walking after him with a yawn, trying to sort her hair into something vaguely resembling a ponytail. "Now I need to go to my cabin and get changed. If they ask where I am at breakfast you don't know because there isn't a chance in hell I was in your bedroom. I don't think either of us need the rumours." She yawned again.

"Agreed." He picked up her boots (which weren't very muddy after all) and handed them to her. She gave him a sleepy nod of thanks and began to put them on, shoving stray strands of hair out of the way all the while.

Unable to keep some of his curiosity to himself, he asked, "Why don't you wear socks in your boots?"

Eowyn looked up at him with a smile as she pulled on her second boot. "One, because after seeing Albus Dumbledore's collection I will never be able to say the word 'sock' without getting vertigo from the brightly coloured images that constantly plague me. Two, because my sister once dared me to live without socks for the rest of my life while I dared her to live without makeup. Needless to say, she lost the dare. And lastly because I like feeling the ground under my feet and they're just something extra to take off when I go to the forest."

"You go to the forest?" he asked, now really curious.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "It helps clear my head. It's dark. It's beautiful. And I have friends there. And when it rains I can feel it."

He raised an eyebrow at the last one but she merely smiled enigmatically and said, "I really must be going, Professor Snape."

It didn't feel right to just gesture for the door as though he was shooing away an unwelcome student, not after last night. So he walked over to the door and held it open for her. As he did so he could not help but notice how wide her smile was as he did so.

"Goodbye, Professor Snape," she said, before disappearing through the air in a flash of glossy black wings.

oo0oo

She wasn't sure if she should have pretended that she was asleep. But it had hardly seemed right to wake up while he was getting dressed. It would have only meant extra embarrassment for both of them. And as for the rest, she had to admit she had revelled slightly in his hesitation. (This was the reason the Sorting Hat had considered Slytherin after all!) But now she wasn't sure that had been wise. She couldn't quite shake off the feeling of his hand on her shoulder.

It had been firm, but not rough. There had been strength in it and there had been at the same time gentleness. And she had felt it through the cloth of her dress. She could still feel it as she transformed into her human form outside her door.

 **Hangovers ... we all hate them. Anyway, enjoy! :)**


	26. The Morning After (not what you think)

You Know What Drunk Men Are Like – 1992

Ron Weasley had probably never woken up with a greater sense of purpose in his life. As it was he was up before dawn with a lamp on and his (carefully written) notes in front of him, muttering as he tried to engrain every single fragment of information into his head. Merlin, he had even read ahead in their textbooks and done some extra research! Molly would have been proud of him.

"Ron, you've got another four hours to do that," Harry muttered, hiding his head under his pillow.

"I know," said Ron, "but I told you. We've got to nail this. If Snape wins …"

"Alright, I get it," said Harry, sitting up in bed. "And since you've woken me up I may as well study as well."

"What the heck are y'doing?" grumbled Seamus Finnigan, as Harry's lumos charm lit up the room further.

"Studying," said Ron. "Shush."

oo0oo

It was quite a scene really. It wasn't every day that you strode into the Great Hall and found half of Hogwarts (including the Weasley twins) studying Potions as though their lives depended on it. For once it was almost entirely silent, and the professors were very conscious of how loud their talk sounded in the silence.

"Well even if Eowyn gets whipped by Severus, at least she can go on knowing that she finally made the Weasleys study seriously," Poppy remarked to Auriga in a whisper.

"She will win," said Auriga stoically.

"I'm not sure," Charity murmured. "I saw Severus's classes studying pretty hard as well."

"Damn the man!" hissed Auriga vehemently.

"Well judging by what I've heard his teaching method's changed," whispered Septima. "It's more interesting."

"I don't care!" snapped Auriga. "Eowyn's got to win."

"Well shut up and don't pressure her. She's coming in now," said Charity.

Eowyn came in late, as usual, dressed in a dark golden robe with a red overcoat. The colour was much more aggressive than her usual blue, green and brown tones. But Auriga doubted it was a conscious effort. Eowyn Gondolin rarely co-ordinated her clothes for anything. She couldn't help but think, as her friend marched down the centre of the hall with head held high and hair already falling out of its confines, the golden streaks glinting like little specks of fire in the sunlight, that she looked like a real Gryffindor.

A sigh to her left, drew her attention to Lockhart, who was leaning his face upon one hand and staring dreamily at Eowyn. Instantly Auriga's thoughtful glance transformed into a scowl. Lockhart was handsome, Auriga would admit. A lot more handsome than her current boyfriend in fact. But he was also a narcissistic, self-centred idiot. And now he was eyeing one of her best friends up.

 _I'll have to have a word with him._

 _And with Severus._

She craned her neck around to catch sight of Severus. He was, after all, the man whose spite had gotten Eowyn into the Lockhart problem in the first place. Septima had told her so much as she was recovering from her (still present) hangover.

Severus too was looking thoughtful, but he wasn't looking at Eowyn. Rather he was glaring at his plate, playing with his food. He was afraid of losing. Good. Because he was going down.

"Come on Eowyn, sit with me."

 _Now you're pushing your luck, Lockhart!_

In the silence of the hall his proclamation rang out like a shrieking gong. Everyone instantly turned in their seats to view the spectacle.

Eowyn had come to halt a little way away from her usual seat for today, between Poppy and Auriga. But Lockhart had taken her chair by use of a levitating charm and used it to move it between himself and Auriga.

Eowyn's voice was like brittle ice as she said, "I would rather sit in my usual place, Lockhart."

"But surely not." That smile was starting to fray Auriga's nerves. "If you can sit with _me_ why not?"

"You want me to list the reasons, Lockhart?"

Minerva broke in before any of them could speak. "Lockhart, put her seat back where it was and leave it there this second."

Lockhart turned to face her, a wounded expression on his face. "I hardly think, after what transpired between us last night –"

"Bloody hell no!" exclaimed Auriga, jumping to her feet.

"You shut your effing mouth, Lockhart!" exclaimed Septima, pointing her wand at him.

"Don't you dare!" snarled Charity, teeth bared like a cat's as she spoke.

"What on earth does he mean, Eowyn?" asked Minerva.

Curse him, Lockhart had drawn the attention of the whole room. They were all looking at her as though she was wearing nothing but her underwear. Though some of the senior boys looked like that around her at a regular basis so maybe that meant nothing. Lockhart was smiling, a dashing, daredevil smile that made Auriga want to slap him. And Eowyn, curse her, was actually blushing. Would the girl never learn? Blushing sent out a message to the world. The message that you were guilty. The only problem was that Eowyn tended to do it a lot, whether guilty or otherwise.

"Well –"

"What it means," said Professor Snape, rising to his feet, his voice a silky drawl, "what it means is that Lockhart was acting like the drunken idiot that he is and Professor Gondolin happened to be in the vicinity. You know what drunk men are like, Albus." But he was looking at Eowyn as he spoke.

"I certainly do," said Dumbledore, turning to fix Lockhart with a stern glare.

"I don't think that Eowyn will be sitting next to you, Lockhart," said Minerva, moving the seat back to its original spot. Her eyes looked as though they were about to burst into flame and shoot lava at him.

Auriga was still staring at Severus. He had lied for her friend. He had lied to cover up something that had been his fault. Maybe he did have a heart after all.

oo0oo

"I officially hate Lockhart ten times more," Ron muttered, as they collapsed into their seats in Potions.

"Why ever should you –" began Hermione.

"Because now he's a git who kissed our teacher _and_ he disturbed my revision," snapped Ron. "How could he! She doesn't give a fig for him. And on top of that, he makes it sound as though they did a lot more! Like she wanted to! I'm surprised she didn't hex him on the spot!"

"Actually I think that would be Professor Sinistra's job," said Professor Gondolin's laughing voice.

She was standing in the doorway, legs crossed with arms folded and a smile on her face. "S-sorry, Professor," said Ron, aware that you weren't supposed to gossip about your teachers' lives.

"Nothing to apologise for, Mr Weasley. But just so you know, Lockhart never got the chance to kiss me. And if he had, yes I would have hexed him." She was still smiling.

"But Snape said –"

"Snape lied. Because saying that he only tried to would not match up with Lockhart's cockiness. And there's also an inside joke in there too." She was chuckling slightly now, as she made her way over to the desk.

"What's that?" Seamus asked, unable to keep his curiosity in check.

"You must swear secrecy. If you break it I will know and take fifty points from Gryffindor for each breach, Mr Finnigan, understood?"

"Yes, Professor," said all the class in unison.

"Very well. Professor Snape was the one who was drunk."

Silence.

Finally. "Did _he_ kiss you?" a Ravenclaw girl ventured.

Professor Gondolin smiled and for a heart-stopping second they thought she was going to say yes. "No, Miss Bendit. He might have liked to but he didn't. As he said, you know what drunk men are like. Now, on to the test. Mr Weasley, I expect one hundred percent from you."

 **Well you've set the bar, Ron, you'll have to jump over it ... :)**


	27. Beaten

Verdict – 1992

The last of his classes to do the test had been out of the room an hour ago. All the other teachers had agreed to band together and, with the help of his mark scheme and a band of students who had taken Potions and Alchemy to their NEWTs, were marking the Potions tests while another bunch of students who had taken History of Magic to NEWTs were helping mark the test Professor Gondolin had written.

It was strange to be waiting in Professor Gondolin's cabin. In the time he had spent working here he had never ventured further than was needed, holding his classes in the kitchen, which was just off the hallway. He had convinced himself that he was not interested in her and could not care less what her house looked like. But, now that he was alone and, after last night's events, he could not help but glance around curiously, trying to take things in for the first time.

The kitchen was small, with a polished wooden table which was only really meant for four people, maximum in the centre. A small stove with a wooden countertop and a sink running along the wall took up the rest of the space. But now that he was looking around he managed to notice some other things.

One of her cupboards had a picture of her and a younger, less scarred version of Mad-Eye himself. Her arm was around his shoulder and hers was around his and both were smiling broadly, laughing. She looked about twenty then, looking at about the end of her auror training. But then, she looked twenty now, so there was no way for him to know.

Sometimes (not often, he didn't regularly think of such things) he would think how unfair it was how slowly other people aged. Aside from the few grey streaks in her hair, Minerva could have passed for someone in her thirties. Albus was getting on in years with his silver hair and beard it was sure, but he was still as full of life as he had been when he was eleven. And as for Lockhart … ha … the man probably had all sorts of beauty potions up his sleeve, ready to keep him young and healthy looking for the next five decades or so. And then there was him. The fact was that he seemed the oldest of them all, even though he was one of the youngest. Sallow skin, greasy hair and dark, malicious looking eyes did not exactly promote a youthful vibe after all.

"Severus! Sevvy-dear! Guess who won!"

It was Auriga, dancing into Professor Gondolin's kitchen with what looked like a mixture of Irish and Russian dancing.

"Well judging by your tone of voice and that presumptuous use of my non-existent nickname I would guess that –"

"Stop! Don't rob me of my moment!" The Cheshire Cat would have envied her grin. "Eowyn's won."

 **Sorry for the shortness. :)**


	28. First Name Terms

Till 3 O'Clock in the Morning – 1992

He guessed he should have expected it. Even with some of the students such as Natalie Skelet gradually shifting to his side that was not enough to overcome the general affection that Professor Gondolin had won from his classes. Now he would have to go back to his classes, beaten, and them knowing he had been beaten.

Remembering why they had made the bet in the first place he had no idea what he was going to do. He knew he should probably give Longbottom a new book, as she had wanted. But that would be admitting defeat in its purest form. He couldn't.

But on the other hand …

"Professor Snape."

He had been pacing up and down the entrance hall, muttering slightly to himself when he heard her voice. She was standing in the doorway, letting in a draft of cold night air with her. She didn't seem to notice it however, as she slid inside and walked over to him. He noticed she looked tired. He wondered whether that was the stress of waiting for results or because of last night's excursions.

"Yes, Professor Gondolin."

If it were anyone else he would have had the feeling that she had come to gloat. But, as it was, her smile was slight and genuine and he had a feeling she wanted something else.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink back at my house." Then, seeing the face he pulled, "Not proper wine. Just butterbeer. I trust that you, unlike Charity, do not have an alcoholic reaction to non-alcoholic drinks."

"Of course not," said Severus. He guessed he couldn't be too offended by the fact that she thought he couldn't hold his liquor. That line of thought was probably correct anyway.

"Is that an acceptance?" Eowyn asked, an eyebrow raised.

"One question," said Severus. The truth was he still hadn't figured out whether he was going or not.

"Hit me with it."

"Is this in an attempt to bribe me into giving Longbottom the textbook?"

She was silent for a moment, as though considering the validity of this statement. Then she said, "If I thought the offer of my company was so appealing I would have offered it earlier so as not to have to put up with Malfoy's sneering for a week." Her tone was light-hearted, clearly meant as a jest, even to Severus' ears.

 _Little do you know._

He couldn't remember the last time he'd _wanted to know more_ about a woman. Actually he could. But Lily hadn't really counted as a woman back then, he thought, more a girl. He could feel his face falling at the thought. He wasn't even aware that he had been smiling, ever so slightly. It had been a long time since he smiled too. A very long time indeed.

He looked at her again. In some ways she reminded him of Lily. Bright, talented apparently (judging by the way he had heard her friends teasing her for her academic success) and kind.

 _But I can't forget Lily._

 _Who says you will forget her? Like you could? But surely that doesn't mean she has to colour your every move?_

The truth was Severus had a feeling that she had coloured his every move. If it weren't for her it was likely he would not have changed sides. He became a double agent because of Lily. He saved her son last year because of Lily.

"If you don't want to, Severus, then you can –"

Maybe it was time to do something for himself. Eowyn was willing to offer friendship, even after having to deal with his snarky attitude, drunken ramblings and the undoubted head-rush that came with winning the competition. And people like her didn't happen to him every day.

"No. I'll come."

"Good," she said, moving towards the door and indicating for him to follow. "We just need to make sure that tonight we both leave at decent times."

"Believe me," he murmured, "I could leave in my nightclothes and that's the last thing they'd think of."

"I'm afraid the rest of us don't boast such a flawless reputation," said Eowyn with a smile.

Of course not. A bright, beautiful young thing like her had probably had innumerable numbers of suitors, if not so many boyfriends.

oo0oo

Her lounge was warm and homely, rather unlike his, with its black chairs and endless piles of books. Although he had to admit that she herself had quite an extensive collection. Three bookshelves were crammed full of books while a table creaked under a pile of the stuff, along with a few snowdrifts of student essays.

Reading the titles he was surprised to find a broad range of books. Most teachers just kept books that were relevant to their subjects. Professor Gondolin, on the other hand, not only possessed books on Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Ancient Runes, but quite a few Muggle history books, atlases and animal dictionaries, as well as a sprinkling of historical novels by writers that he had never even heard of.

"I can let you borrow some if you like," she said, setting down a mug of warm butterbeer on the table and seeing him absorbed in scrutinising her bookshelf. "It could help you catch up on some of your Muggle history."

"I might," he said.

"My mother was always into history. I guess she passed that on to me," said Professor Gondolin.

He noticed her looking at a picture on the mantelpiece and craned his neck around to see it. The picture was of a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. It was instantly clear that it was Eowyn's mother.

 _Now I know where she gets the looks from._

The woman's hair was long (unlike Professor Gondolin's) and with the help of a colouring charm on the picture he could see that it was the same shade of gold-tinted brown as Eowyn's. Though it wasn't as thick. Her height and dark blue eyes were obvious traits that Eowyn exhibited. But her face wasn't as pointed as Eowyn's. It was a little rounder, not as lean as Eowyn's, which formed a slightly squarer shape. But everything about the woman: the eyes, the hair, the smile, were just like her.

"She was a Muggle," said Eowyn presently. "But I never wanted her to be a witch. Never. She was the best mother ever."

Severus did not respond, thinking back to his childhood. Eileen had been the only person apart from Lily who understood him. But she had not exactly been warm and caring either. She might not have beaten him with a cane the way his father had, but she was still spiteful and insulting. It was apparent that Eowyn, although living in similar conditions to him bloodwise, had experienced a rather different childhood.

For a while they sat in silence, sipping their drinks. Looking further around the room Severus caught sight of a framed picture sitting on the table. It portrayed four girls laughing as they held up diplomas. The one on the left was dressed in Slytherin robes, green and silver tie still done up tight while long, black hair was flowing down her back, loose from her braid as dark brown eyes glittered with happiness. He saw that the seal on her NEWT diploma was marked with an O. Yes, it had not been a surprise that Septima got an Outstanding in Arithmancy. She might have flunked Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions but she had taken Arithmancy by the throat and throttled it.

The second girl's black and yellow tie revealed her to be a Hufflepuff. Her somewhat ragged blonde hair was clinging to her ponytail and her eyes, brown and Hufflepuff and innocent spoke volumes of her delight as she waved an Outstanding in the air. Severus had never really known Charity since she was two years younger than him, a Hufflepuff and a 'blood traitor' but he assumed it was for Muggle Studies.

Auriga was smirking in a way that was far too Slytherin for her Ravenclaw robes as she waved her own diploma in the air, a wand grasped in the other as she sent a Patronus (in the form of a large bat) into the sky, long black hair carefully braided.

Finally Eowyn was on the far right in Ravenclaw robes as well. Her hair was cut about halfway down her neck and she had dyed a purple strip into it. Once again he was astounded by how little she had changed in fourteen years, between completing her OWLs and becoming a professor. But she was a great deal shorter in this picture than she was now, sitting in the chair opposite. Clearly she had experienced something of a growth spurt over the next two years or so. But there were two things that had definitely not changed, he thought. Her eyes were still that dark, ocean blue and her smile was still as bright and genuine as ever.

"I notice you had no Gryffindor friends," he said, raising an eyebrow as he settled back into his seat.

"Oh we had a few," said Eowyn. "Moris Weasley was the first to introduce me to 'The Art of Pranking Argus Filch & Professor Dinklage'."

Severus could not help but wrinkle his nose at the mention of his old professor. "A horrible old man. Gave Gryffindor too many points than were good for them. As if their egos needed swelling. And Merlin forbid you should cut that branch off just an inch or so too high up. Of course it's _impossible_ to mix up two plants that look exactly alike."

He realised that she was giving him a strange look, her head cocked on one side. "I mean no offence, Professor Snape," she said presently, "but if the students were to hear that they would automatically assume that it was yourself you were talking about."

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence as he considered her words. Him? Like Professor Dinklage, the worst, most tyrannical Herbology teacher known to mankind? The idea was enough to make him fell slightly nauseous. Before he could dream up a suitable retort that would probably have led to another argument, she spoke again. "I did not say that so that we would fight over something, Professor Snape. Now, you said you wanted to hear about my terrible day with Lockhart. Here it is …"

So for the next three quarters of an hour she hurled detailed description after torturously detailed description of her nightmare with Lockhart, with him every now and again chipping in to ask for more details. He had to admit that it sounded terrifying. And when she told him about Lockhart wearing perfume he could not restrain a chuckle.

"Of course he does," he exclaimed. "It would not do for the great Gilderoy Lockhart to be normal would it."

"Seriously," said Eowyn. "I have my sister to take me to expensive cafés, make me buy romance novels and gets me fitted for dresses I'll never wear. And at least she wears decent perfume and can keep up an intelligent conversation with me that does not constantly devolve back to her."

"What did Lockhart's smell like?" Severus asked. He couldn't help it. He had to know. Who knew, it might come in useful for blackmail.

Eowyn shrugged. "I am no expert at perfumes, Professor Snape but I would say it smelt like some sort of flower or something. Cherry blossom maybe?"

"Cherry blossom?" asked Severus, a thought forming in his head.

"Yes," said Eowyn. Then her eyes widened.

"Like his wand!" they said as one. Then they both burst out laughing. Yes, Severus laughed. It was a nice laugh, Eowyn thought. A deep, heartfelt, truly amused sound.

"Well," said Eowyn with a grin. "At least there's method to his madness."

"It's not called madness, Professor Gondolin. It's narcissism. Professor Trelawney is mad and I can barely look at her. He is narcissistic. Every time I see him I want to strangle him."

"Well I did contemplate doing just that when he tried to kiss me."

"Good for you."

oo0oo

"But Janis Doblehed's research clearly states –"

"That old fool!" Severus snorted. "He was extremely biased by his sister and his mother-in-law. And their views on the brewing of Potions were hardly to be recommended."

"No. Hear me out. Janis Doblhed's research, conducted _before_ his marriage, alongside some of the budding Potions Masters of the Renaissance proves that the time in lunar cycle in which potions are brewed can affect how potent they are. Hang on, I've got the book here." She leaned over from her seat and pulled a thick, metal-bound volume from the shelf, flicking through it with a purpose.

For a Care of Magical Creatures teacher she certainly knew a lot about Potions, Severus thought. And, typical of many Ravenclaws, she was a wonderful arguer. That was one of the things he loved about Ravenclaws. Gryffindors (with a few exceptions – such as Minerva) would get frustrated in no time and lose the plot by either fighting, huffing and going away or yelling. Hufflepuffs didn't argue … unless it was a life or death situation. And as for Slytherins … my view is right … yours is inferior … I don't care what you have to say you filthy mudblood so back off!

Their argument about Potions had begun about an hour ago. He had gleefully won the first round. But she had not let him rest on his laurels, instantly plunging into another linked topic which he had touched upon in his previous arguments. And he had a feeling, based on the determined expression on her face, that he was going to struggle to win this.

He found that he didn't mind though. He had enjoyed the argument. Unlike those morons that would come in to inspect from the Ministry, she actually knew what she was doing and her theories and opinions (though sometimes wrong) at least showed a solid base of thought and understanding.

It occurred to him that she was very like Minerva in many ways. The way she sat, with her scarred feet tucked under her, was just like Minerva would do on cold winter evenings in the staffroom. The concentrated frown on her face as she leafed through the book, muttering away in a mixture of Gaelic and English.

"Here," she said, pushing aside a renegade strand of hair. One thing she had not picked up from Minerva was a hairstyle that could last twenty-four hours. Then, seeing that he wasn't moving, "I'm not getting out of his chair. I'm warm."

"Why should I move?" he asked. He was warm and comfortable too. No way was he getting up.

"Because you have shoes on."

She had logic. He still had his shoes on while hers had been lying out in the hallway ever since they arrived.

"You should have kept them on," he said simply.

"But I didn't."

"What's it a diagram of?"

"It's complicated. And it shows the way the experiment – fine I'll come over there and show you! But don't expect me to move next time. It'll be your turn then."

So she planned to do this in the future. He couldn't say he objected to that.

She moved to sit on the floor beside him, the way she had in the staffroom. The firelight shone on her face, illuminating the lines of her smile and the faint flush in her cheeks. If she had looked peaceful while sleeping in his chair she looked happy now. _She's going to get wrinkles if she keeps smiling that much._ But then he remembered an old woman in Spinners End saying, "Wrinkles are to show where smiles have been." _Well that's one good thing about my life I guess. I'll have less wrinkles than everyone else. Wonderful._ "Now sit back and listen as the voice of god flows from my lips," she said, somehow managing to sound deadly serious. "By the time we're done here you are going to be a convert of Janis Doblehed."

oo0oo

"Are y'goin' t'do sumthin' about i'?" Hagrid asked, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to warm them. "They're makin' qui' a racket."

"Albus?" asked Minerva, expertly stifling a smile as she looked away from the cabin to where the headmaster was standing, chuckling in the shadows.

"Well I don't know about you, Minerva," he said, his voice bubbling with humour, "but if I were I'd just leave them be."

"It's one o'clock in the mornin', sir," said Hagrid with a yawn. "An' they've been at i' tooth an' nail for four hours solid."

"I can imagine," said Minerva, smiling openly now.

"I'll engorgio a pair of earmuffs for you, Hagrid. Then you'll be able to sleep as soundly as a lamb," said Dumbledore.

"I never knew that lambs slept soundly, Albus," remarked Minerva.

"Trust me, my dear," said Dumbledore, his voice deadly serious, "they do now."

oo0oo

"It's simple science, Professor Snape. Simple," – she paused to yawn – "science. That children learn in Muggle schools. Your genetics are like a blueprint for who you are. They will define what different," – another yawn – "cells are like in your body and – Severus pay attention!"

He started out of the half doze he had fallen into. He couldn't help it. She had begun giving him a lecture on the functioning of genetics and the combination of tiredness and the sound of her voice, with the soft, Irish lilt, had gradually lulled him into a stupor. Now she was standing beside his chair, a small smile playing over her lips as she said, "I think it's time for somebody's little boy to go to bed."

He glared at her. But he didn't really mean it. It was a reflex action.

"You said the same thing last night," he remembered, struggling to his feet and nearly doing a double take when he realised that it was three o'clock in the morning.

"Well don't think this means I'm going to half carry you to bed like last night. Being your camel once was quite enough."

"Thank you. Now I have visions of a smart-talking camel with breath mints to haunt my nightmares," he muttered.

"Glad to be of help."

As they spoke she was walking him to the door. Her hair had fallen completely loose of its fastenings and hung in a curtain around her head, strands glinting slightly. Most women he knew (with the exception of Rolanda Hooch) had long hair. But she looked good with her hair cut at the shoulder. As she walked beside him he once more marvelled at how tall she was. Even without the slight height boost that her boots gave her she was almost his height exactly.

It seemed it was his night for noticing things for he saw the beginnings of a scar protruding from the edge of her collar. It was white and rather more raised than any of the others that he had seen. Maybe it was the mixture of the butterbeer and his own tiredness that made him do it but once more curiosity overcame him.

"Where did you get that scar?"

She glanced up, saw where his finger was pointing and used her finger to push the neckline to one side, just a little. Even then he could not see where it ended.

"Fenrir Greyback," she said presently. Her voice had taken on a softer, more sombre tone. "Our family was one of his first victims in the war. He killed my mother first. She was a lawyer in the Muggle world. All the Muggles saw was a horrible, dirty tramp running into the courtroom and ripping her neck clean off. Then he went in search of us. Our dog, Pippin, tried to stop him. But Greyback killed him. Greyback got a chance to attack us but didn't kill or bite us."

"But doesn't a werewolf scratch mean –"

"Oh no, Professor Snape." Some of the old twinkle had returned to her eyes now. "He wasn't so savage back then. And I think drinking a litre of mom's blood had somewhat sedated him. He had the decency to use a knife to attack us."

"How old were you?" he asked.

She seemed to think about for a while before saying. "I'd just begun my second year at Hogwarts. I was twelve. But I had a wand to defend myself with. Arwen's a Squib. She had nothing. She has one on her leg. It goes all the way from the inside of her knee to her ankle. I'm lucky. I've got more than her but none of them are as deep or as long. But what sort of topic is that to be discussing as I say goodbye?"

"Only for several hours," Severus remarked.

Professor Gondolin smiled. "A good point. And on that note, next time do you want it in your rooms or mine, Professor Snape?"

He thought about it for a second. It was not in his nature to let people into his rooms. But then, people rarely asked. And it hardly seemed fair that she should take the burden of entertaining all the time. So … "Very well. My rooms next time."

"Good," said Professor Gondolin. "Just do me the favour of dusting down the chair first, Professor Snape."

"I think, in view of recent events, you may call me Severus, Professor Gondolin."

Her eyebrow raised in surprise at that one. But quick as a flash she was back with a reply. "Very well. Then you must call me Eowyn."

"Very well. In that case, Eowyn, now might, in the spirit of the moment, be a good time to tell you that you have won."

"I know, Auriga's only been gloating about it for the whole of supper," said Eowyn, rolling her eyes at her friend's competitiveness.

"I mean I will get Longbottom the new book."

If her mouth opened any wider he was sure that she could swallow one of Hagrid's enormous, inedible cream pies whole. "You will?" she spluttered.

He could not help but smirk slightly. The look of surprise on her face was quite endearing. "Indeed."

She let out a small cry of joy and took a step towards him. Then froze. "You're not a hugging person are you, Prof-Severus?"

 _Not usually._

"No."

"Alright. In that case, this is what they did in the 1900s."

She leant over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before turning and striding back into her cabin, smiling happily.

For a few minutes Severus stood outside her door, frozen. Then he began to slowly meander his way up to the castle. She had only kissed him on the cheek. And only for a second or so. But he had felt that her lips were soft. He had felt the warmth of her body near his. And he had smelt her. She didn't smell like he'd thought she would. The truth was he hadn't a clue what she'd smell like.

 _Like the forest. Grass. Rain. Damp earth. More rain._

He remembered her speaking about going out into the forest and feeling the rain. She really was the outdoorsy kind. Not like him at all – cooped up in his little dungeon. Seldom leaving the castle unless it was absolutely necessary. They were so unlike. Yet she could argue Potions with him till three o'clock in the morning. And no one had done that ever. Lucius Malfoy had done it until midnight. But he had drawn the line there. And that had only been once. And she had given him a kiss on the cheek when most would rather die than do so.

 **And that is how it all began! Couldn't help adding that bit about Hagrid. The poor guy. He's a half giant who says things he regrets afterwards and has to keep track of Harry Get-Into-Loads-Of-Trouble-At-The-Drop-Of-A-Hat Potter and now he has to endure Snape and his (future) girlfriend verbally disembowel each other. Sorry Hagrid. Just put a clamp on your tongue at the Yule Ball and you might just snag the girl of your dreams. :)**


	29. Buttons

Buttons – 1995 (Intro in 1996)

"Charity seemed rather in shock, Eowyn. What exactly were you talking about?" Severus asked over a slice of marmalade covered toast.

"You do know you look like Paddington Bear don't you?" said Eowyn playfully.

"Get to the point!" he said, wiping some stray marmalade away from his mouth and into his hair.

"You'll have to wash your hair tonight, Severus. Anyway, we were talking about your … um … skills in bed."

Severus instantly froze. His eyes went big, his mouth fell open (still full of marmalade) and he dropped his piece of toast onto his robes.

"What?"

"Want me to say it again?" She was getting way too much glee out of this.

"Definitely not!" he exclaimed. Then, "Why?"

"Keep your voice down, Severus, we're in the staffroom. Because they caught me outside your room this morning. Apparently they've been watching your door for a while now."

"Thank Merlin it's sound-proof," said Severus, clearly relieved. He still hadn't picked up his toast.

"You mean you – !"

"Auriga, keep your voice down," hissed Charity.

"You mean," – Auriga scooched up next to them – "that you two did … you know … do the deed while we were watching your door."

"Now you make it sound awkward," said Severus, head in hands.

"He means yes," said Eowyn, giving her lover a pat on the back and saying, "and dear, you really need to clean up before classes start or all your students are going to know that Severus Snape is addicted to marmalade."

"Apparently that's not the only thing he's addicted to," said Auriga, a mischievous grin on her face.

Eowyn tried to hit her with a plate, narrowly missing striking her in the head. From behind his hands, Severus muttered, "I will kill you, woman."

"Come on, Severus," said Eowyn, giving him a nudge. "Go off and clean up and try not to make a spectacle of yourself."

As Severus walked out the door he paused in the doorway and, turning to face her said, "Like you and the buttons you mean."

Instantly Eowyn's face went beetroot red and she ducked behind her hands. But her friends were already onto her.

"When did this happen?"

"What have buttons got to do with it?"

"Who saw it?"

"How come we missed out?"

"How embarrassing?"

"How about we continue this conversation on the way to my cabin," said Eowyn, rising from her seat.

 **1995 several months ago**

"You mean Snape had lady's brooch in his room?" George gasped.

"Yes, and keep your voice down!" Ron hissed.

"Well guess what happened to us today," said Fred. "Gondolin came into class yesterday with a hicky on her neck."

Hermione choked on her salad.

"You're joking," gasped Harry.

"No," said George. "And then Snape came in and demanded to know who'd put a spell on her to make it look like she had a hicky –"

"And then we took the blame," said Fred.

"And then he gave Forge points for doing it," said George in a hushed voice.

Hermione said, "So you're saying that –"

"Yes," said George solemnly, "Snape is covering up for Gondolin in exchange for pieces of jewellery o charm a lady with."

A pause.

"No," said Fred. "That was not what I had in mind at all."

oo0oo

"I have a class, Severus."

"I know."

"Don't … you?" She didn't know if she hoped he did or not. He knew what he was doing and she couldn't say she objected.

"No. If I did I wouldn't be here."

"Sure, because you always do what you're supposed to that way." It was hard to sound sarcastic. Her mind was starting to get fogged.

 _Which tends to indicated that now's the time to make him stop kissing you neck and get out of here before you both do something you'll regret._

With a sigh of a mixture of disappointment and pleasure she gave him a sharp push in the right direction (away from her) and said, "Severus. If I'm late for class one more time, I swear Umbridge will fire me without a second thought. Now go find something useful to do."

"It's your fault you know," he said, giving her a kiss on her jawline.

"Really? And what have I done wrong now, _Professor Snape_?"

"Well not dressing like a Muggle could help …" he gestured towards her clothing.

"For the love of Merlin, Severus. It's just a blouse."

"Which happens to be in a very nice shade of green and have buttons on it."

At that Eowyn laughed, leaning back against the wall of the small alcove he had snatched her into. "You and buttons, Severus. I'm starting to think you have a fetish for them."

Severus pretended to look offended at that. "Only on you," he said, trying to kiss her again, but being halted by the hand that came in the way.

"Ah-ah. I need to go, Severus." She stepped past him and began to walk down the hall before halting and turning to face him. "Just so you know, Severus, the buttons won't be going anywhere. They'll still be there tonight."

 _Though whether they'll be done up is quite another matter indeed,_ she thought ryely.

oo0oo

"So, Potter. Getting ourselves another detention are we? Tell me, Potter, are you and your mudblood loving friends _trying_ to get expelled or –" Draco's jaw went slack and his eyes went wide as he stared straight past Harry towards the doorway.

Resisting the automatic urge to come back with a scathing come-back, Harry turned around to see what Draco was looking at.

Professor Gondolin was in the hallway, arms folded and glaring at Malfoy with skin-piercing eyes. She tended to wear that look a lot when a Malfoy was around, whether senior or junior. Her voice stung like acid as she said, "For the millionth time, Malfoy, do not use that horrible word, in my presence or others'. Twenty points from Slytherin. And yes, I know your father will hear about this, Malfoy. You have made such facts abundantly clear before and I have successfully rebuffed him before so please save your pointless threats for later."

On that note she marched up to the board where, at a wave of her wand, a drawing of what looked like a fairy crossed with a spider appeared. "Since it is raining today we will be studying the creepy-crawlies of the magical world. I am afraid that I have only a few caught and bottled so we will only be able to observe them in their natural habitat tomorrow. Mr Malfoy, you can close your mouth now. I am sure that your father would not like to hear that you accidentally swallowed a doxy."

Malfoy was staring at Professor Gondolin as though she had suddenly turned into Fluffy, the three-headed dog. What's more, he wasn't the only one. Lee Jordan's eyes were opened almost as wide as his mouth was. In fact, almost all the boys (and even some of the girls) were reacting in rather disturbing ways.

Seamus Finnigan was hitting his head with his hand muttering, "Can't bally unsee that! Bally well can't!"

Lavender Brown was hiding behind her curls and rocking backward and forward as though in some sort of trance.

Ron Weasley had gone redder than a blushing tomato and was staring with surprising attentiveness at his work, mumbling something about, "Mom used to do that sometimes."

Hermione Granger, the only one in the room who was not cringing in her seat, was sitting up straight and tall and looking rigidly ahead of herself with two scarlet spots on her cheeks.

"What's up, Hermione?" Harry hissed. Then, "Oh, Merlin!" and ducked down his head to study his book alongside Ron. Now he knew exactly what Ron was talking about.

"What is wrong with all of you?" asked Professor Gondolin, flinging her arms wide in an exasperated gesture.

"You mightn't want to do that, Professor," mumbled Hermione.

"Want to do what?" asked Professor Gondolin, her hand falling to her hip.

"Wave your arms."

"Explain please, Miss Granger. I am afraid you have me confused."

"That's right, Mione, go tell her," Ron muttered, from where his face was stoically buried deep inside his book.

Blushing furiously, Hermione summoned all her Gryffindor courage and said, "I'm afraid you may have forgotten to do up all the buttons this morning, Professor."

"You mean someone undid them for her," Pansy Parkinson chittered. Malfoy gave her a dig in the foot.

For a few seconds, Professor Gondolin was frozen, staring straight ahead of her and breathing in deeply. Then she looked down.

It was unfortunately true. It was all well and good to have one button undone. That was fine. Two would have been considered rather to risqué for someone of her profession. Three was definitely over the borderline.

Professor Gondolin had somehow managed to have the top for buttons undone and not notice.

For a few seconds all was silent.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. That was … helpful." Professor Gondolin looked as though she didn't know whether to laugh or spontaneously combust. Harry wasn't sure which would be more disturbing.

She turned around and walked up behind her desk, turning away from them. For a few seconds she stood there with her hands on her hips, facing the board, as though thinking. Then she quickly did up three of the four buttons and turned to face them, a purposeful expression on her face.

"Turn to page sixty-four in your textbook and begin reading. I will be back in five minutes after I've skinned someone's hide." And then she strode out of the room, murder written all over her face.

Silence.

No one turned to page sixty-four. Not even Hermione.

The silence was broken by a very traumatised, "Bloody hell."

And then an even more traumatised, "For once, Weasley, I couldn't agree more."

Then all hell broke loose.

"That image is going to be stuck in my head until the end of my days!"

"And that's a bad thing?"

"You're a sick pervert, Lennox. Back off!"

"Well you've got to admit, she's got something to show."

"How could she not realise?"

"D'you think she did it on purpose?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"She was even colour co-ordinated!"

"I said shut up, Lennox, before I blast your bloody head off!"

"Who do you think did it?"

"Her boyfriend. Duh!"

"Yes, but who is her boyfriend?"

"Lockhart. He was mad about her in our second year."

"Yeah, and she slapped him till he cried."

"Well he's handsome!"

"I think it's Lupin."

"Yes, that's a thought. He liked her didn't he."

"I thought they were just friends."

"Everyone always thinks that."

"But he's got no money and he's a bloody werewolf."

"Love is blind."

"Well I'm not. And I'm scathed for life because of that."

"Come on, it wasn't that special."

"Shut up, Parkinson! You're just jealous that she's got a better rack than you're ever going to have!"

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

Everyone whirled around at the sound of Professor Snape's voice, only to find McGonagall standing alone in the doorway. The expression of rage on her face put Professor Gondolin's to shame. "And now that I've got your attention, I should like to know why you are making such vulgar remarks about your teacher, Mr Lennox."

Harry had never been so happy to see Professor McGonagall in his life.

"Ummm." Apparently Charlie Lennox was for once lost for words.

"I'm afraid I had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction, Minerva," said Eowyn, sweeping in like a sort of green-shirted saviour.

"A bit?" asked Minerva, a sceptical eyebrow raised.

"Alright, a big one. But –"

"Eowyn, why are you in Muggle clothes."

Eowyn glanced down at the green blouse, black trousers and boots. "I felt like a change," she said simply.

"Apparently not for the greater good of your class's mental health," remarked Minerva drily.

"Apparently," said Eowyn, shooting Lennox a laser-eyed glare.

Needless to say, for the rest of the lesson, no one in the class could concentrate. Boys like Lee, Ron and Seamus kept banging their heads off the table muttering, "Scarred for life." Boys like Charlie Lennox kept suddenly smiling broadly halfway through their work, to be greeted by a pointed scowl from Professor Gondolin. Girls like Hermione and boys like Harry sat quietly blushing and inwardly dying as they completed their work with more than usual vigour. And girls like Pansy spent the whole of class tittering in the corner until in the end Malfoy of all people leaned over and hissed that if they said another word, he would never speak to them again.

Apparently losing the favour of the 'handsome Draco Malfoy' was not worth gossiping about their teacher's love-life.

That was the first and unfortunately not the only time that Professor Gondolin shot a grateful glance in Draco's direction that was not greeted by a sneer.

oo0oo

At suppertime that day, Eowyn Gondolin turned up surprisingly early. Despite this, she still had the eyes of ninety percent of the school on her as she walked between the tables.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, did not turn up for supper at all. And the next day, when he came in, he was limping. And Professor Gondolin, in a dark gold coloured blouse today, for once did not seem to be interested in conversation with him.

As they ate evening, Severus leaned over and whispered, "So what do I have to do to be forgiven?"

Eowyn shot him a fakely puzzled glance. "What makes you think you need my forgiveness?"

"Well let's see. You've been turning up on time for a whole day. You've been strategically avoiding my rooms and my conversation. You wrote a letter to Lupin yesterday in the middle of the staffroom and strategically left it in a place where I could see. And you've been wearing lipstick which you obviously intend to remain untouched. Need I say more?"

"How about, 'I won't try to half strip you in the corridor'?"

 **1996, several months later**

"Poor Malfoy," said Charity, shaking her head. "No wonder he was in submission to you for the next month. Poor dear must have been traumatised."

"So what did dear, darling Sevvy have to do to get back in your good books?" asked Septima, eyes bright with glee.

Eowyn smiled evilly. "I made him agree to clean all the kitchens with the House Elves as helpers without using magic or strangling any of the poor dears."

"Oh, the horror!" said Auriga.

"I can just imagine him in a chequered apron," said Septima.

"Like Cinderella," said Charity with a smile.

"Don't tell me you're still watching that movie," said Eowyn.

"Umm, yes," said Charity, looking rather sheepish.

"Remind me to get you something educational for Christmas," said Eowyn. "Like Braveheart."

As they walked down the hall their conversation was interrupted by Severus calling, "Eowyn!"

"Boyfriend calls," Auriga murmured.

With a roll of her eyes Eowyn turned to face him as he walked down the hall after them.

"In view of the not you left me, I would like to state my part of the bet. If Slytherin wins the match, you have to act like a Muggle for a week." And on that note he continued on his way to the dungeons in preparation for his first class.

"Yes, that means I can listen to ABBA," said Eowyn, grinning.

"Oh no, this is going to be like the time when you played 'Dancing Queen' so many times that we memorised the lyrics!" groaned Septima.

 **ABBA is the best band ever. Live with it, people. For some reason I like the idea of a shocked Draco Malfoy. And you can bet I'll be picking on the poor kid quite a bit. And yes, Draco fangirls, he may be hot, but that does not mean I will not use every chance I get to embarrass him. :)**


	30. Changes in Behaviour

Changes – 1992

There was an almost audible sigh from all the Gryffindors as they filed into Professor Snape's classroom. After Professor Gondolin's interesting lessons, cheerful demeanour and sympathetic understanding, it was going to be hard to go back to Snape's dull, terrifying ordeals. And, what with Professor Gondolin winning, he would probably be in an even worse mood than ever.

So morale was at a dangerous low when the brisk thud of Professor Snape's boots announced his arrival.

As usual, Snape strode past them, coming to a halt with a swish of his black, bat-like robes, pausing to glare dangerously at the class. When he spoke, his voice was in its usual low, sarcastic drawl. "According to the results of the test that I set you yesterday, Professor Gondolin has taught you well. However, I have also heard that she was extremely soft on you. Do not expect for an easy ride now. Unlike Professor Gondolin, I intend to challenge your minds. Now Longbottom. Now is the chance to prove your clumsiness once again. Go down to the greenhouses and bring back a sample of each of the plants on this list." He flung a sheet of paper at Neville, who barely caught it. "Go. And I want you back in twenty minutes. In the meantime. The rest of you can set about finding the effects of the various plants that he will be bringing back on page one hundred and twelve."

As Neville walked past Harry he whispered, "He left a book on my desk."

And sure enough, sitting on the table in front of Neville's chair, was a new copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger.

"I'm sure Professor Gondolin had to use force," said Ron.

"Keep your opinions to yourself, Weasley. I do not believe that anyone apart from Potter and Granger cares for them," said Professor Snape.

oo0oo

The fact was that, over the course of the next few months, people began to notice changes in the life of Professor Snape. He and Professor Gondolin talked more and more frequently. Between classes. At meals. In the staffroom. And then in the evenings (when they weren't too loaded down by homework) they would sometimes retire to one or the others' rooms for a talk.

Snape's classes also began to notice a change in his behaviour. Certainly, he was just as sarcastic and snarky as ever, and he still showed great disdain for Harry and his friends. But he was not so free with his removal of points from Gryffindor and his attempts to rile Harry were fewer and milder. Most of the teachers and many of the students were fascinated by this change. They would look on in awe as Snape and Professor Gondolin strolled through the corridors, engaged in a heated debate over the properties of one potion or another.

Apart from Gilderoy Lockhart.

Lockhart was deeply disturbed by Eowyn's sudden friendship with Snape. For some reason he seemed to find a threat in the dark-haired, sallow-skinned Potions Master. And when he tried to rectify this … the results were rather amusing.

Severus and Eowyn barely noticed the eyes on them as they flung the doors to the Great Hall open, they were so caught up in their debate. This time it was about whether dragons could be trained or not.

"They're savages, Eowyn!" One of the main changes in Snape's behaviour had been his habit of calling Professor Gondolin by her first name and she by his. "They would tear you apart as soon as look at you. Even the hatchlings have an inborn wish to kill."

"Maybe, Severus. But remember Hagrid and Norbert. Norbert didn't try to kill anyone. And anyway, all the dragons that I've ever met and you've ever heard of have been wild, with people only attempting to train them when they were fully grown. My friend, Cressida Cowell – you know the halfblood witch? – she thinks that if you were to train a dragon from birth –"

"Eowyn, the idea of 'training' a dragon is ludicrous. They cannot be trained. It's like trying to train a leopard. It may be small and adorable while it is small but small leopards grow into big leopards and big leopards kill! And even supposing that you were able to bind its affection to yourself, they are like Acramantulas. If –"

"Come now, Professor Snape. There is no need to antagonise the lady."

Both professors, who had begun ascending the steps while they argued, paused, blinking up at Lockhart like vampires in the sunlight.

"Firstly, Lockhart," said Snape, "I am not antagonising anyone – except maybe yourself. It is what is known as a civilised debate."

"Secondly, I am not a lady," said Eowyn.

"But I think that you –"

"And if you don't mind, I have my opinion to express, Lockhart," said Snape, turning back to Eowyn as they continued their ascent of the stairs.

"What about my opinion?" Lockhart was starting to sound like a testy toddler.

"No one cares about your opinion so sit down, Lockhart," said Auriga, giving him a painful poke I the hand with her fork.

It could have been a trick of the light, but many of the students were sure that as he sat down beside Filius, Snape shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

 **Cressida Cowell is not mine. Nor are the How To Train Your Dragon books or movies. :)**


	31. Halloween Night

Mrs Norris – 1992

Professor Snape was standing in one corner of the Great Hall, glowering at the rest of the world with feeling, his black robes flapping slightly in a draught coming from outside as the students milled around the Great Hall, laughing and chattering and every now and again screaming when the Weasley twins made a plastic spider come alive and scuttle around the floor.

"You do know that all the Muggleborns are saying you fit the part of Count Dracula pretty well," said Eowyn, walking over to stand beside him.

"I heard," said Severus drily.

"So, what are you doing up here?" Eowyn asked, leaning against the wall next to him. She had chosen not to wear a costume, opting for a dark grey dress lined with black and with black trousers for the occasion.

"Watching," said Severus.

Eowyn sighed. "Watching for what?"

Severus smiled drily. "Things always happen on Halloween. Last year we were attacked by a troll."

"Ah yes, Septima told me about that," said Eowyn.

"And now that the Dark Lord is fooling around again, we need to be on the watch," said Severus.

"Judging by what I can see, Severus, there is no 'we'. There's just 'you'."

"Well someone has to do it."

They were silent for a while, sitting and watching the festivities until presently Eowyn said, "I'm off to go get us some spider cupcakes."

"I'm not in the habit of eating –"

"No one said you have to make a habit of it. It's only once a year," said Eowyn.

Severus rolled his eyes and continued to watch the increasingly dwindling number of students still left celebrating in the Great Hall. Soon they would all be gone and he would be able to continue his vigil out in the halls. Maybe Eowyn would even join him. Homework had gotten in the way of their meetings lately and he supposed he could do with the company.

 _Look what she's done to you! She's made you crave her presence! She's made you crave friendship!_

 _Is that such a bad thing?_

 _You bet it is! Remember what your father said! Women are a distraction!_

 _My father was a sexist abuser! His opinion does not count! And anyway, even if they were distractions, that's only if you're in love with them. Which I am not._

 _Really? You're sure about that?_

He stared ahead, not seeing what was before him, wondering about that statement. She was everything he was not. Kind, helpful, honest and open-minded. She was beautiful and fun-loving. She had a happy family life and many friends.

But on the other hand he doubted that if he met another one of him he would want anything to do with them. Maybe he _needed_ someone who was not like him. Maybe he _needed_ someone who was kind, helpful, honest and open-minded. And who was also intelligent and able to argue a case better than many lawyers (magical or otherwise) that he knew.

 _But who am I to know what love is?_

He had been in love with Lily. He guessed in a way he still was. But it had become more of a dull ache in his soul over time. It had filled his thoughts when he had nothing to think about. It had brought back hurt and anger and resentment. It had opened old wounds and brought back old pain.

But nowadays he found himself thinking more of Eowyn. He would wait impatiently for their meetings. When he was ready to bang his head off the table at Longbottom's ineptness he would comfort himself with the knowledge that he would have her to vent it to afterwards, over a cup of hot chocolate. He had never, in all his life, had someone to comfort him. His mother had been too sucked up in her own misery. His father had been out of the question. He had never really talked in depth about his problems to Lily. Albus? He would give you wise advice and he would try his best. But he wasn't exactly the best at the whole comfort thing. And anyway, there was no way he, esteemed Potions Master and reputed git, was going to come crawling to the Headmaster for help.

"Something tells me that a certain Potions Master is very far away." Eowyn's tone was light and playful and her eyes sparkled as she held out a large cupcake with a disconcertingly realistic black spider on it. He accepted it but did not eat it instantly, eyeing the spider suspiciously. Despite the rumour that he kept packs of them as pets, Severus had a great dislike of spiders. Too many legs and eyes for his comfort.

"Is there something you need to talk about?" asked Eowyn, taking a large bite of her cupcake. "Or is it a state secret?"

Looking at her he felt a sinking in his heart. Her smile was so bright, her cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth in the room. A strand of hair was hanging in front of her face, begging to be pushed behind her ear. She was so happy and carefree, with her booted feet stretched out in front of her. He had seen her without boots on a lot more lately. Taking off her boots was her signal that she was at ease. He had not been able to ask her about where the scars came from, although he desperately wanted to. It might make her uncomfortable.

 _Like me telling her what I'm thinking will._

That was the problem. She was happy, young-like and beautiful. There was not a chance in hell that she would want to be saddled with an ex-Death Eater like him. She had said so herself that she wanted to be his friend. There had never been any indication of anything more. And he was grateful for what she had given him.

 _And you should be satisfied._

Heck, he wasn't even sure he knew what he felt anyway!

"It is strange that the Dark Lord has not yet made a move," he said, slipping instantly to the subject that he thought was most convincing. "He has waited all summer and two months of the school year as well."

"Maybe he's trying to lull us into a false sense of security," Eowyn speculated. "Then he's going to leap out at the last moment and bite our heads off."

"That image is quite disgusting and one that I do not need inside my head," said Severus.

"Sorry, he'll get Mr Greyback to do it for him," said Eowyn with an eye roll.

He had quickly come to the conclusion that Eowyn hated Greyback with a passion. Understandable really, what with her history involving him. The fact that he was free seemed to rile her even more. Where he lived she did not know and for the werewolf's sake, Severus presumed that was for the best. If she found out … he had no doubt whatsoever that Eowyn would not wait a second to kill him.

"Go on and eat your cupcake, Severus. It won't bite you." Eowyn was already halfway through hers.

"Its appearance begs to differ," said Severus drily.

Eowyn rolled her eyes once more. "If I smudge the icing and make it look like a mound of black will you eat it like a good little boy?"

"I do not appreciate that comparison," said Severus even more drily.

"Well if it –"

Suddenly a third year Slytherin boy came running into the Great Hall at top speed, a look of shock on his face. "Filch's cat's hanging from a torch bracket and we think she's dead!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"What do mean hanging from a torch bracket, Mr Setton?" Severus called, instantly slipping into teacher mode.

"What I say, sir!" shouted the boy. "Come and see!"

oo0oo

An hour or so later, Mrs Norris was lying on a bed in the hospital wing, stiff as board and fur fluffed up as Mr Filch sat by her bed, snuffling into a dirty handkerchief and cursing Harry Potter and his ancestors back three generations (give or take a few). A safe distance away from the snivelling caretaker, Dumbledore had taken the staff to one side to discuss the nature of this creature and the fact that the Chamber of Secrets was now open.

"What do you think the creature is?" Albus asked, direction the question at Eowyn, the animal expert in the room.

"I can't think of anything, offhand," said Eowyn. "But I am not entirely sure that it will be something we have heard of. Salazar Slytherin had a nasty habit of keeping unpleasant tricks up his sleeve. For all we know it's a giant marshmallow wearing a sailor hat."

"Where did that come from?" asked Minerva, confused.

"I went for a trip to London last week," said Eowyn. "Big ice creams and ships get all mashed together."

"I would hate to be inside your head," said Auriga.

"Thanks," said Eowyn.

"Eowyn, you're getting distracted," said Minerva, attempting to steer her not-by-blood daughter back to the subject at hand.

"Alright, in that case I'll do as much research as I can on the topic and see if I can get some of my seventh years onto the topic. But don't be surprised if we come back with our hands empty."

"Very well," said Albus. "But from now on I would appreciate extreme care being taken when outside at night."

But Eowyn was already heading towards the bed where Mrs Norris lay, paralysed. She stood opposite Mr Filch, staring down at the cat with a heavy sadness in her eyes. Presently she said, "I'm awfully sorry, Mr Filch."

Apparently Mr Filch had been so caught up in his own misery that he had not noticed her. Glowering in the way he did, he snarled, "And why'd you be sorry? You and your miserable friends always creepin' about and makin' trouble!"

Eowyn sighed and stared down at the cat once more. "Let's just say that you aren't going to be the only one missing a companion on your nightly wanderings." She turned away with another sigh and headed out of the Hospital Wing.

oo0oo

"It seems that your theory is correct, Severus," said Eowyn, closing the door behind her. They had reached the point where Severus was the only one who insisted on knocking when entering her house. "Halloween is apparently the time for dramatic disasters."

"I wonder," said Severus, setting down a mug of hot chocolate before her seat, "who opened it?"

"You mean you didn't?" Eowyn teased, sitting down opposite him.

Severus frowned at her, a signal that now was a time for serious conversation. "Very few people know of its existence. And even fewer of them seem likely candidates to be Slytherin's heir," said Eowyn.

"That may be true," said Severus. "But you know who the blame will automatically fall on?"

Eowyn's eyes widened and she leapt to her feet. "Not Hagrid! Merlin help us, no! They can't blame Hagrid!"

"But they will," said Severus. "Sit down."

"One of my best friends has the possibility of being sent to Azkaban looming over his head and I'm supposed to sit down!" She was pacing up and down, gesturing wildly. "I've seen what that place is like! It's hell! Pure hell! Hagrid wouldn't last a week in there! He's had a hard enough life as it is and now they're going to throw him to Azkaban! This is too much!"

"Well pacing up and down and morphing into a windmill will hardly help his cause," said Severus calmly.

"No, it won't," said Eowyn. But she continued pacing (thankfully without the arm-waving). "But what can we do? Aside from scream our lungs out at the Ministry when they come to take him?"

"Well I certainly won't be doing that, even if you will," said Severus.

"Wait!" said Eowyn, snapping her fingers. "Screaming … Arwen! She's a lawyer!"

"In the Muggle world," Severus pointed out.

"That doesn't mean she can't write us an appeal or whatever they call those things!"

"She'll need all the information you can get about Hagrid. She needs to know _more_ than the Ministry."

"Fine," said Eowyn. She was already pulling her boots on, preparing to go out and find Hagrid. "He'll tell me."

"Your hot chocolate is getting cold," Severus pointed out. He didn't know why he said it. Maybe he was trying to remind her of all the time they'd missed over the week. Maybe he wanted her to stay. Even if it was to vent about Hagrid.

She paused, halfway to the door already. She licked her lips and glanced first at the door, and then at him. Presently she said, "Severus, what will it mean for you if the Dark Lord rises?"

He had not expected that question. He guessed he should have. She was by no stretch of the imagination, stupid. She was bound to ask sometime. But he didn't have an answer prepared. He wanted to tell her that he would have to go back to being a double-agent, risking his life and others at the slip of a word. He wanted someone who knew, other than Albus. But no. "Then I will be one of the first people on his little black list. I will have been a traitor to the cause." It came out more flat-sounding than he expected and the way she cocked her head and looked at him with a slightly quizzical expression on her face made him wonder if she was convinced.

Whatever was going on behind her dark blue eyes she did not illuminate to him and instead said, "I need to speak to him soon. You can come with me, if you like, Severus."

He shook his head. "Hagrid will only close up if a bat like me is sitting opposite him."

Eowyn nodded. "Good point." Then, "I'll take the hot chocolate with me. Promise to drink it like a good girl. I'm sorry, Severus. We can talk tomorrow. Merlin knows we'll probably have a lot to talk about."

And then she was gone, in a swish of grey-black robes. And Severus was left to ponder, his brain automatically going back to the argument it had been having with itself before the Mrs Norris disaster. But instead of it being a conversation it was an image. The image of the girl's reflection in the lake after Sirius and James released him. If it had been her (he was almost certain) she would have been in third year. She would already have known of his reputation as a snarky git, of his tendency towards Death Eater ideals. But, if it was her and supposing that she had threatened the Marauders, she had done it anyway. How would she react to know that, if Voldemort were to rise again, he would have to go crawling back to him, and once more be a silent witness to the killing. He winced at the mere thought, painful memories coming back.

He laughed suddenly. Here he was. A double-agent. Half Death Eater. The most hated person in Hogwarts, trying to figure out his feelings for the beautiful, intelligent, most definitely not Death Eater and one of the most loved people at Hogwarts. Oh, and there was a monster on the loose that turned you into a statue.

 _And another monster who parades around with his blonde locks and golden capes and a blinding smile._

The situation could surely not become more ridiculous.

 **That's right, I referenced Marshmallow-Man from Ghostbusters. My day is complete. :)**


	32. Mrs Malfoy Visits

Mrs Malfoy Comes to Visit – 1996

"And Cassius scores again! That's Slytherin in the lead with 150 points and Ravenclaw stuck at 90. Clearly it's not the eagles' day! And Adrian's going in for it, trying to score another goal for Slytherin! No, he's down. Off course by a bludger from Duncan! That's it! Knock 'em dead, Duncan old chap!"

"Jordan, for the last time you are supposed to be an indifferent commentator!" snapped Minerva.

"Ready to lose the bet?" Severus smirked, slipping a sideways glance at Eowyn.

She glared at him. "And there I was thinking I could have gotten a short cut out of homework!"

"But what's this? Cho's diving down! She's seen the snitch! But Malfoy's in hot pursuit! Damn his father and all the money for bloody brilliant brooms!"

"Jordan!" shouted Minerva. Then, turning to Poppy, "We really need to install a censorship device into that microphone. I do not want to be at the receiving end of parents' wrath when their children come home swearing like sailors!"

Poppy smiled warmly as she said, "But you won't be, Minerva. Umbridge will be the one slaving away under the Ministry's whip."

"Now _that_ is an image that I shall cherish until the end of my days," said Minerva, smiling brightly.

"And Malfoy's got the snitch, damn him! You almost killed her you pureblood son-of-a –"

"Lee Jordan! Drop that microphone this second!" screamed Minerva.

"I believe I win," said Severus. "No more spells for the next week, my dear."

"Shut your ugly trap!" said Eowyn, linking arms with him as they began to leave the stands. "Or else I'll play the same ABBA song on repeat fifty times until you're driven round the bend."

"Threats are rather irrelevant if they are going to happen anyway," Severus pointed out.

oo0oo

To say jaws dropped at breakfast the next day would have been rather an understatement. The words 'hit the floor' would be more fitting of the situation. Professor Gondolin appeared in flared jeans, her usual knee-high boots, a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, with her hair done up in a ponytail. The effect was rather startling. She could have walked into a Muggle bar and be turned away for being thought underage. Some of the staff members (namely Severus, Auriga, Charity, Septima and Minerva) paid it no heed, merely rolling their eyes. Some of them, on the other hand, looked as though they'd seen Lord Voldemort in a bikini.

But by far the most hilarious reaction came from certain individuals at the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables.

"Wow. She looks good," Lee murmured.

"You haven't seen her with her shirt half off," Dean muttered into his porridge, face turned scarlet.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" hissed Seamus, hitting his friend with a book to punctuate his words.

"Good thing we weren't there," said Fred. "Gred'd have died."

George gave him a shove.

And meanwhile at the Slytherin table …

"Goyle," said Draco, being careful to keep an eye on his food. "Does the shirt have buttons on it or not?"

"Ummm," began Goyle, scrunching his face up in concentration.

"No," said Crabbe finally.

"He spoke to me!" said Goyle.

"You were slow!" said Crabbe.

But Draco was not concerned with his cronies. Breathing a sigh of relief he risked raising his head and trying to conduct a conversation with a now very put out Pansy Parkinson. Draco was beginning to come to the conclusion that she was allergic to the idea of girls and women aside from herself being complemented for their good looks.

The moment Umbridge caught sight of Eowyn she first went white, then red, then a mysterious shade of purple which Ron was fairly sure did not belong to the 'three phases of shock' pattern. As Eowyn ascended the stairs she rose and said in a very strangled sort of voice, "Professor Gondolin, I would like an explanation for this sudden obscure change in dress code."

Eowyn continued to climb the stairs, smile beguilingly. "I'm glad you approve so much of my normal wardrobe, Professor Umbridge. But I am afraid that once a bet has been made it has been made."

"And with whom did you make this bet?" Umbridge asked, going a shade purpler.

"Professor Snape, I believe," said Eowyn, sitting down beside Septima and murmuring, "and yes, I will break all her plates, all in good time." _Slytherins and their bets!_

At that Umbridge shot a narrow-eyed glance at Severus. Eowyn could see what was going through her head. Ever since the beginning of the year, Umbridge had been chasing after them. Sure, they had managed to avoid her most of the time and they had wiped her brain, but she still remained sceptical of their 'friendly' relationship. Everything, even the simple things that were not in any way meant as romantic gestures, even a simple discussion about the brewing of a new potion to aid in a new lesson, became something suspicious. So this bet undoubtedly would.

"No buttons this time, I see," Auriga murmured, as they began eating.

"I'm being safe this time," said Eowyn.

"It looks like a certain Malfoy is very glad of that," said Charity, smiling knowingly in Draco's direction.

"We're not repeating _that_ episode!" said Eowyn sternly.

"I wouldn't speak so loudly," said Septima. "Severus might take it as a dare."

"Don't worry," said Eowyn with a knowing grin, "I have the threat of ABBA hanging over his head."

"Behold the power of Muggle music," said Auriga.

oo0oo

"So, all geared up for another round of blather?" Ron asked, as they slumped into their seats in their Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"If you find something that could possibly prepare me for an hour with Umbridge then for Merlin's sake get a cellar full of it for me," Harry groaned, flinging himself into a seat next to him.

"Ssshh!" hissed Hermione. "She's coming!"

Umbridge was looking even more put-out than usual, and there was a rather startling amount of soapsuds in her hair, which tended to indicate that Peeves had struck again. Before Malfoy or one of his fellow suck-ups could point it out however, she had reached the front of the classroom and turned to face them, her face taught and strained. "Before we begin class," she said, her voice high with tension, "I would like you all to tell me everything you know about Professor Gondolin."

"Malfoy don't you dare!" Harry hissed, leaping to the defence of his teacher.

But it was too late. Despite almost all the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and even a fair number of the Slytherins all glaring at him with the ferocity of a pack of wolves, Malfoy had begun. "Well first of all she's a mudblood, Professor. It's kind of obvious from her behaviour."

"Git, git, git, git, git!" Ron snarled.

"Her mother was a Muggle."

"Was, Mr Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered at that, a look of glee on his face as he said, "She was killed by Greyback in the war. And her father got killed by my – a Death Eater."

"And does she have a particular liking for Muggles?"

"Why she's obsessed with them, Professor! Must come of hanging around Burbage so much. Almost every weekend she goes running off to London or some other big city to see her sister – a squib can you believe it!"

"Suck up!" muttered a Slytherin boy with long dark brown hair. Harry made a mental note to find out his name.

"I see, Mr Malfoy." Umbridge's mouth was drawn into a tight line. Harry realised that she had been taking notes all the time. "Thank you. Now, turn to page ninety-four."

Seamus poked a finger into Harry's back and mouthed, "Plan A?"

Harry nodded. Seamus instantly shot his hand in the air and said in a very broad, Irish accent that had many of the students giggling, "Ken ah goh t'the bally bathrim Missuss?"

Umbridge glared at him. But Seamus was immune to all glares save the McGonagall one. "I bin holdin' i' in all the bally mornin'!" he said, taking a deep breath, as though preparing for a long, detailed monologue of his troubles.

"Very well, Mr Finnigan! But be quick!" snapped Umbridge.

Seamus ducked out of the classroom with a grin and sprinted down the corridor in the direction of the castle grounds, where he knew Eowyn's Care of Magical Creatures class was. Upon arriving he found her and a crowd of second year preparing to unleash a pack of Nifflers to find buried gold.

"Professor!" Seamus called, abruptly bringing himself to a halt beside her. "Just thought you'd like to know that Umbridge's on your tail about the whole Muggle thing. She'll prob'ly do another check inta your background. If you've got anything to hide then I'd do it. And be ready for a questioning!"

Eowyn smiled knowingly at him. Her students had come to know that smile and to find confidence in it. "Thank you, Mr Finnigan, for your concern. But I believe that you will find I will be alright."

Before Seamus could leave he caught sight of a tall, slender form making its way towards Eowyn across the grounds. "Professor Gondolin," he said, tugging at Eowyn's sleeve, "you haven't done anything to offend the Malfoy's lately, have you?"

Eowyn turned, taking in the person who was coming towards them. "Ah," she said. "Pardon me a second." Then, as Mrs Malfoy drew nearer, she took a step towards her and held out a hand in greeting. "Mrs Malfoy, good to see you."

Mrs Malfoy gave Eowyn a prepared, practiced smile before saying in her usual tone, "I would like to speak with you in private for a second, if you do not mind."

It was not so much a statement as a command.

"I do not," said Eowyn, moving to one side, just out of earshot of Seamus, who immediately began to inch towards them, trying to overhear their conversation.

"Mrs Malfoy?" he heard Draco's mother ask, a sceptical tone in her voice as one perfect eyebrow was raised.

"Oh dear, how about Lady Malfoy? Does that sound better?" Eowyn asked in a mocking tone.

To Seamus' everlasting surprise, Mrs Malfoy responded by giving Eowyn a playful shove and saying, "Come on! You know we've been on first name terms for a while now. Now I've come here to talk about a problem with Draco."

"Isn't that Professor Snape's territory?"

"Yes, it is, but he told me that you knew more about it than he did." Mrs Malfoy frowned slightly. "He seemed awfully vindictive about it."

"Well that's Severus for you," said Eowyn, all pretence at formality gone. "What seems to be the problem?"

Mrs Malfoy leaned in very close to almost whisper, "I think he's become afraid of buttons."

Eowyn blinked. "He's what?"

Seamus instantly turned redder than the Red Hand of Ulster. He knew exactly why Malfoy was scared of buttons even if Professor Gondolin did not.

"Afraid," said Mrs Malfoy again. "I was undoing my coat last week when he was home from the weekend and he was looking at me as though it was the Dark Lord himself. And every time I or any other girls or women wear something with buttons on them he looks like he's preparing to run a mile."

"Ah," said Eowyn, looking steadfastly at the ground to try to hide the cherry-coloured blush which was spreading up her neck. "That does have something to do with me."

"What, did you make a horde of buttons attack him?" Seamus had never seen any of the Malfoy's looking happy or innocently teasing. This had got to be a first.

"No," said Eowyn, then leaned closer and whispered something in Mrs Malfoy's ear.

Mrs Malfoy grabbed her arm as she tried to move away and said, "What do you mean? Who?"

"Tell you what, Narcissa. You and I can meet in Diagon Alley next Sunday and I'll tell you all about it. Or maybe not all of it. It's complicated. I'll have to speak to the man in question first. And can I bring Natalie?"

"Certainly," said Mrs Malfoy, with a smile. "It will be good to see the little darling again. What about Alyss, her friend?"

"I'll see if I can arrange for her to come. Now I really must go and check up on my second years before they go off into the Forbidden Forest and Umbridge fires me!" said Eowyn, waving a goodbye to Mrs Malfoy as they parted ways, leaving a very confused Finnigan behind them.

"Interesting dress code, by the way, Eowyn!" Mrs Malfoy called.

"I know," said Eowyn. "I hear it's all the rage down in the Muggle world! And it doesn't have buttons!"

Mrs Malfoy laughed.

oo0oo

"Where in the Wizarding World have you been, Mr Finnigan?" squeaked a very indignant and pink faced Umbridge (apparently Hermione had taken it into her head to be annoying today). "If there is not a decent explanation I shall be forced to dock points!"

"M'sorry, Professor," said Seamus, keeping the annoyingly thick Irish accent as he slid into his seat, "bu' Professor Gond'lin wa' talkin' te Missuss Malfoi, so she was. I couldna speak t'er fer a wee wheile."

After spending a few seconds trying to figure out what he said, Umbridge looked rather confused. "Speaking to Mrs Malfoy? Are you sure?"

Inwardly gloating at the look of surprise plastered onto her face, Seamus chose to exaggerate the situation further. "Aye, Professor. They was talkin' an' laughin'. Looked like they was 'aven a bally good time."

"Mrs Malfoy?" asked Umbridge, turning an almost accusing gaze in Malfoy's direction with the clear question of 'what is your mother doing socialising with a Muggle friendly witch?' in her eyes.

"Yup!" said Seamus. Oh, was this payback! "Apparen'ly she'd come t'talk bough' problems Malfoi Junior's bin 'aven a' school. Seemed awful concerned fer a wee bi'. Bu' seemed to trust Professor Gond'lin a grea' deal."

 _Take that, Malfoy. Now your mother is officially a very close friend of one of the most Muggle-friendly witches in the history of the Wizarding World._

 _And on top of that, Umbridge is confused._

 _Well done, Finnigan._

 **One day I will write a fic to explain Eowyn's friendship with Narcissa. Until then, just ride with it, this woman is an 'across political views' friendship person. Unlike me. Enjoy! (Unless your a Malfoy fangirl (or boy) in which case you are gleefully plotting my demise.) :)**


	33. Jealousy (aka the Green-Eyed Monster)

Jealousy (a.k.a. The Green-Eyed Monster) – 1992

"You'll never guess what Albus told Lockhart he could do," said Severus as he walked alongside Eowyn in the corridor.

"Start a book/art club dedicated to reading his work and painting his adventures?" Eowyn suggested.

Severus frowned at her. "Where do you get such horrific ideas from?" he asked. "No. He's allowed him to start a duelling club."

"Lockhart?" asked Eowyn, halting in surprise, an eyebrow raised. It was a habit she had picked up from him, Severus realised. "Come on! Trelawney could teach them better! Couldn't Dumbledore persuade him to involve someone else? Someone with more experience? And who has less ego problems?"

"I was offered up as bait," said Severus with a lopsided grin.

"Really?" asked Eowyn, sceptical.

"No," said Severus. "They all wanted a go at him. Even Filius. The little man looked as though he would gladly have beaten Lockhart to pulp the Muggle way – and relished it."

"When were you consulted?" Eowyn snapped. "Where was _I_ on this wondrous occasion?"

"You were off in the forest, I believe, dancing in the rain."

"Just for the record," said Eowyn, "I do not dance except when it is an exceptionally joyous occasion and it was not raining. It was just foggy."

"What do you do then?" he asked, curiosity overtaking him. At the rate he was going he would be late for his class but, once again, curiosity got the better of him.

"I have friends there, as I have said before. Some of the centaurs are particularly nice. And I made my mark on the Acramantulas long ago. They know to keep away if they don't want to be turned into marshmallows with legs made of licorice all-sorts."

"What?" asked Severus, bewildered.

"A spell Auriga and I invented," said Eowyn. "I could teach you it if you wanted."

"No, carry on."

"Anyway. I've also made friends with a small herd of unicorns. The thestrals are starting to come round to me, I think. I also need to get food to feed Hagrid's menagerie. I think he sometimes forgets that he needs to feed all the animals that come into his care. I have to serve as his memory."

"And you enjoy it?"

"Of course. You should come some time. Get out, you know. I think you'd enjoy it. Just ignore the fact that all the spiders hiss at you as you walk past." She was smiling as she spoke. He had come to like to see her smile. He had long since given up on attributing that warm feeling to anything else. He simply liked to see her smile.

 _You're up to your neck in it, Snape. You don't know whether you're coming or going._

"So, when is this duelling club starting?" Eowyn asked. They were nearing her cabin and he could see her fourth years waiting for her by her cabin, probably longing to see some new and ferocious beast.

"Tomorrow," said Severus. Then an idea occurred to him. "Do you want to come?"

Eowyn thought for a second before smiling broadly and saying, "Why not? If I can't hex Lockhart myself I can at least watch you do it!"

oo0oo

"So the Demiguise is found in the far east. It's rather rare and almost impossible to capture since it can turn itself invisible and tell the future. Wizards are doing tests on their brains to try to figure out how they work but until they get the results in that's all we know."

Eowyn was addressing her fourth year class, holding an ape-like creature with large black eyes and long, silky hair. It had its arms wrapped around her neck and was watching the gathering of students with a sceptical look as they gaped at it awe.

"They are herbivorous and very peaceful," Eowyn continued, stroking its head. "This one is Archie. She'll be having a baby (or maybe two or three if we're lucky) in a few months' time and then we will be studying the maturing rate and care of the babies who, for the record, are some of the cutest little things that I have ever –"

"Eowyn!"

Eowyn closed her eyes and breathed deeply before turning to face Lockhart. She was not in the mood. The day had been going well so far. She had spent breakfast laughing over some pictures that Minerva had been sent of her Muggle nephews and nieces (she really did have a handful) and exchanging banter with Filius. Her classes had been well-behaved, cheerful and amusing. She had even managed to invite Severus to go for a walk in the woods with her.

Whether he would accept the offer or not was another matter entirely, but he had invited her to the duelling club so she supposed that was a good thing. The truth was she was confused. She was certain that her original impression of him had been wrong. She had dug beneath the thick layer of jerk and found an intelligent, witty, sarcastic companion. She enjoyed his company and she knew that he enjoyed hers. But she had a feeling that there was something he was holding back. She still did not know why Dumbledore trusted him. And when he had answered his question about his fate, should Voldemort rise, it had taken a little too much thought. And the answer had not sounded right, as though it was something he had practised. She wished he would tell her. She trusted him and –

"Eowyn!"

He was standing in front of her, golden curls perfect and robes gleaming in the sunlight as the girls swooned. She, fully aware of her somewhat falling apart looking state, shot him a warning look and, hoisting the Demiguise further up her hip, like a baby, said in her iciest tone, "Yes, Lockhart."

"It is my pleasure to announce, Eowyn, that you are now not only looking at Gilderoy Lockhart, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, author, Order of Merlin Third Class, Honourary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. I am also the founder of the Hogwarts Duelling Club."

"Fascinating," said Eowyn, ladling sarcasm onto her statement with abundance. Severus would have been proud of her.

"Indeed," said Lockhart, apparently missing her tone entirely.

oo0oo

Eowyn was sitting by the wall of the room watching as the students milled around the duelling platform, chattering happily to themselves. She could not help but notice the depressing amount of girls who were tittering over Lockhart. Such a pity really. Many of them so intelligent and talented, swooning over that pampered, parading peacock.

Eowyn could not help but smile. She was starting to think like Severus!

Suddenly there was a parting of the crowd and a rush of conversation. Rolling her eyes and subconsciously sinking further into the shadows, Eowyn watched as Lockhart strode up onto the stage calling out, "Gather round! Gather round." He had gone for somewhat milder colours today. Grey. Good. For once he wasn't parading around in gold silks.

"Can everybody see me?"

 _I'm afraid we can._

"Can you all here me?"

That smirk on his face was starting to get to her. And not in a good way either. It took every ounce of self-control that she possessed not to leap forward and attack him with the Bat-Bogey Hex then and there.

"Excellent."

 _Slap the idiot. Slap the idiot. Slap the –_

He spun around with a swish of his cape, one hand going to his hip in what was, she was forced to admit, a rather heroic pose. "In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves."

 _Well, that could have been worse I suppose._

"As I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works."

 _Never mind._

Then, with a dramatic florish, he pulled his cloak loose and flung it into the crowd, which gasped in appreciation.

 _Bloody show-off! Worse than Jason Monmouth ever was!_

Lockhart continued. "Let me introduce my assistant."

 _Assistant?_

"Professor Snape."

 _He's going to hate that!_

Everyone instantly leaned forward to catch sight of Lockhart's 'assistant'. Severus moved up the steps and onto the platform with considerably less flourish than Lockhart, a grim scowl on his face. He caught Eowyn's eye and she raised an eyebrow in question. He rolled his eyes and fixed his attention rather unwillingly on Lockhart.

"He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration. Now I don't want any of you youngsters to worry! You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him."

Eowyn's blood boiled. Oh, how she longed to hex him.

"Never fear."

 _Don't worry,_ she thought drily.

He drew his wand and he and Severus both advanced until they were opposite in the centre of the stage. They brought their wands up to their faces in traditional salute and then straight down to their sides. Both bowed briefly and then both turned their backs on each other and strode off in opposite directions.

When a suitable distance from each other both spun around (with considerable flourish on Lockhart's part) and he began to count. "One. Two. Three."

"Expelliarmus!" spat Severus.

Instantly a burst of light flung Lockhart backwards and into the stage. The room gasped, Severus smirked. Strangely enough this smirk didn't grate on her nerves. Rather it made her smile a little. Then she began to clap. Gradually a few others, mainly Ravenclaws and Slytherins with a sprinkling from the other two houses, took up the cheering as well, many grinning gleefully.

oo0oo

When the first (and last) duelling club meeting came to an end, Snape planned to find Eowyn and discuss Potter's Parseltongue episode before Albus inevitably called him up to deal with the same thing. However, he was caught off guard by the tall, black haired Ravenclaw girl who seemed to leap out of nowhere and shout, "High-five, Professor Snape!"

Severus instantly drew to a halt, glaring at her. "What?" he asked, staring at the girl's outstretched hand.

"You're meant to hit it," she explained.

At which point a shorter red-haired girl with blue eyes who he recognised as Natalie Skelet snatched her to one side and hissed, "He doesn't do high-fives, Alyss."

And then by the time he had battled his way free of the crowd he found that Lockhart had beaten him to it.

"I would be greatly privileged," – _damn right you would_ – "if you would be so kind as to come out with me for the afternoon again, after such an enjoyable experience last time," Lockhart was saying. He still had that cocky grin on his face, damn him. And as for the 'enjoyable experience' part ... Eowyn still wasn't finished venting about that.

"Lockhart, I –"

"Can't run away from me now, I'm afraid, Eowyn. I heard you speaking to your friends about being free for the afternoon. I say we go somewhere rather more exotic this time. How about Diagon Alley? I hear a new restaurant has opened up there. French, I believe. Very romantic."

It was at that point that Severus decided he had had enough. Lockhart had used the word romantic I a sentence while talking to Eowyn Gondolin. Suddenly the very idea of Eowyn sitting opposite Lockhart at a table, over a bottle of champagne and some fancy French food, made him burn with anger. _Not on your life, Lockhart._ He wasn't going to let Lockhart get away with this.

Severus marched forward, face set in a mask of cold indifference as inside his emotions boiled. Placing a firm hand on Eowyn's shoulder he faced Lockhart and said, "I'm afraid, Lockhart, what Professor Gondolin has been _trying_ to say is that she has agreed to dinner with me in the Hog's Head."

"It can hardly be that important," said Lockhart, waving his hand. "You can have her some other time I'm sure."

 _Have her? What is she? A courtesan out for rent?_

"No," said Severus, lacing every word with poison.

"A business dinner then?" Lockhart asked hopefully, looking like a puppy that has just been deprived of his favourite chew toy. The very idea made Severus bristle. If he was a pufferfish he would have been blown up like a balloon by now.

Eowyn opened her mouth to reply. He knew what she was going to say. She was going to say yes because she knew he didn't want people to think he was in any way attracted or attached to anyone. Though he was beginning to come to the conclusion that the truth in that statement was becoming less and less potent with every passing day. But no. Lockhart had angered him. Lockhart was going to pay for being a domineering flirt. If you could call his pompous flailing _flirting_. There was not a chance in hell that Severus was going to let him get away with Eowyn. Not today or any other time.

"No," he said once more. He felt Eowyn's head jerk slightly in his direction, surprised.

"Oh," said Lockhart. He blinked, shook his head and then said, "Well, Eowyn, my offer still stands, any day. Except Tuesdays. I have my hair fixed on Tuesdays. Oh, and on Thursday I have a book auction to go to. Signing things and such –"

"We get the idea, Lockhart. Now leave." Eowyn's voice was firm and broached no argument. Severus fought the urge to give her a hug.

Lockhart bowed (rather stiffly, Severus thought) and left. As the students gradually began to trickle out of the Great Hall, Eowyn turned to face him, a small, enigmatic smile on her face. "You can let go of my shoulder now, Severus," she said, laughter in her voice.

He suddenly realised that his hand hadn't left her shoulder in all the conversation. Once again, he could not help but notice how warm and soft her flesh was. He unwillingly pulled his hand free and offered his arm to her. "Ready to go down to Hogsmeade and be gossiped over?" he said.

 **Well that was fun. Anyway, sorry for the long time before the update. My boss has decided to go through a 'pile loads of work on that secretary whose name I can't be bothered to pronounce properly phase' so I've kind of been snowed in by work lately. And if this scene isn't quite true to the book I'm sorry but I'm too lazy to re-read the books. Hope you like it and the next update will hopefully be soon. :)**


	34. The (Not) Date

The (Not) Date – 1992

"Madame Rosmerta," muttered Shelly, giving her boss a nudge.

"In a minute Shelly, I'm busy flattering the fat gentleman over there," Madame Rosmerta told the serving maid, as she strode through the crowded interior of the Hog's Head.

"No, I really think you need to see this, ma'am," said Shelly, squeezing her way past a group of disgruntled goblins. "It's rather special."

"Shelly, we live near Hogwarts which has a maniac for a Headmaster, a giant as a gamekeeper, a creep for a Potions Master, a goblin who teaches charms and a village idiot to teach DADA. I see special things every day."

"Ever seen Severus Snape smile and laugh because of something a pretty girl said?" Shelly asked, deciding to go in for shock tactics.

It had the desired effect. Madame Rosmerta nearly dropped the tray she was holding, just saving the glass of iced firewhiskey from landing on the floor. Spinning round with wide eyes she asked, "Where?"

"There," said Shelly, pointing. Then, "Shall I take the tray, ma'am?"

"Yes," said Madame Rosmerta, in a rather far away sort of voice, not even looking at Shelly. "You should."

oo0oo

Madame Rosmerta looked on in awe. She had turned around just in time to see the couple take a seat, at about the time when everyone else saw them and went silent then, when Snape turned around and glared at them, hastily resumed talking, shooting the two suspicious glances. Madame Rosmerta instantly retreated into the background, watching them. She was not, by nature, usually a nosy sort of person. But this was Professor Snape. This _never_ happened.

She observed them carefully, searching for signs of … something. She watched them sit down, still talking. Severus laughed again and the girl with him. For she could surely be no more than a girl. Madame Rosmerta had a suspicious feeling that this child was probably doing her NEWTs this year. At the most she could not be older than twenty. And yet … watching the way she conversed with Professor Snape, the argument that they had after they ordered drinks, over some extremely complex sounding potion that Rosmerta had never even heard of, she began to wonder. Either this girl was older than she seemed, or she was _very_ far ahead in her studies. Maybe she was one of Snape's star pupils. A Slytherin no doubt, she thought.

But that couldn't be right. The way they acted around each other was far too friendly for it to simply be the relationship between a student and a teacher. Now Madame Rosmerta was beginning to become a little worried. Student-teacher relationships were strictly forbidden at Hogwarts. Also, the idea of Severus Snape of all people being involved in a relationship, with a student or otherwise, did not sit well with either her conscience or her mind. She was just walking over to interfere when she heard Snape say, "I'm sure your students would be thrilled to know that the high and mighty Professor Gondolin went on a date with the infamous Sirius Black."

And the young woman gave him a prod in the arm and said, "If you say a word I swear your end will be a painful one. And what can I say, he was a charmer back then. But then he was also fuller of himself than a blown up balloon and I never could stand boys like that."

"I'll bet he'd not so full of himself now," said Severus grimly, taking another sip of his butterbeer.

Eowyn shook her head. "No but when you ply him with enough chocolate you can get some of the old Marauder back."

"Chocolate?" Severus asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yes," said Eowyn. "The guards aren't very wary about what you bring in. After all, one wrong move and the Dementors will suck your soul out. What can you really do?"

Severus frowned for a second and then said, "So you're telling me that you regularly travel out to Azkaban to deliver chocolate to trained killers?"

Eowyn smiled slightly at his reaction. "Don't flatter yourself, Severus. And no, I can't go that regularly otherwise people would become suspicious and add chocolate to the list of undesirable items on the list of things visitors are allowed. And not all of them. I can only buy so much chocolate. There's Natalie's mother and Black and a few others. But most of them just curse you and try to bite your fingers off. I still have teeth marks around my wrist from when Bellatrix Lestrange had a go at me."

Severus nodded. He had wondered where that particular scar had come from. That was one he could knock off his List of Unidentified Scars Belonging to Eowyn Gondolin. He could well imagine Bellatrix lashing out like that, especially in her reputedly maddened state. He was rather surprised by the enraged feeling that rose in his chest at the idea of her doing that _to Eowyn_. He shook himself. Severus Snape was not defensive of anyone. Even his friends.

 _Question is, does she still classify as a friend?_

He sighed to himself. He could keep on denying it as long as he liked, but his inner mind knew where this was going.

A hand resting on his arm brought him back to the present. "You alright, Severus?" Eowyn asked. Then, smiling, "Getting self-conscious?"

The truth was that he had been too busy being wrapped up in his own thoughts to become self-conscious. And the feeling of her hand on his wrist, even if there was a layer of cloth in between, was definitely distracting. And it left a feeling of loss in him when she drew away.

"Perfect," he said, aware of how idiotic the word sounded, "just imagining what the rest of the world will think when 'the Great Bat goes out on a date with a beautiful woman'."

Eowyn laughed slightly at that, appearing to make light of it. But on the inside she felt as though fireworks had gone off inside her. He had called her beautiful. Maybe he hadn't meant it in a romantic way but it was still all she could do not to blush. She couldn't remember Lockhart ever calling her beautiful. And even if he did, she would have merely rolled her eyes and counted the various ways that she could kill him. She ducked her head down and made a pretence of examining a scratch in the table.

Madame Rosmerta looked on in awe. Snape had just called someone beautiful. That was not just rare. That was legendary. That _never_ happened. And if it had she was fairly sure all the world would have known about it. She was still busy staring when she felt another pluck at her elbow and heard Shelly whisper, "The village idiot just arrived asking if 'Snape and Eowyn' were here. What do I tell him?"

Madame Rosmerta raised an eyebrow. So Lockhart was on first name terms with Professor Gondolin, as she now knew this woman to be. Well, judging by the exchange between the two professors, Lockhart was an unwelcome presence. So she turned to Shelly and said, "You tell him that they're as far away from this side of the inn a possible. I'll deal with them."

Then, when Shelly was gone, she walked over to the couple and said, "Sorry to intrude, Professors, but I'm afraid that you might want to leave." Then, when both blinked at her in confusion, "Lockhart's arrived."

Snape muttered something that sounded like a curse under his breath and Professor Gondolin somehow managed to frown and roll her eyes at the same time. "I have a back door if you're interested," Madame Rosmerta pointed out.

"We'll take it," said Eowyn and Severus together.

oo0oo

A couple of minutes later the two of them staggered out into the cold, Eowyn laughing slightly hysterically. Severus did not laugh. But he did chuckle a little. But then he was too busy watching her to be truly amused by the situation. It was sleeting slightly when they came outside and in the dying evening light it caught in her hair, coming loose of its bun, and glinted like little diamonds. As her laughter rang out over the lake as they neared it. He had become used to the sound now, but it never ceased to amaze him how musical it still sounded to his ears.

"Where to now?" he asked, catching up with her as they moved further away from the lights of Hogsmeade.

Eowyn barely hesitated before saying, "Well, I did invite you to come into the forest with me. Now's your chance!"

That sounded good to Severus. He was an excuse to spend more time with her and it was somewhere secluded, where no one would be able to see them. A win-win situation as far as he was concerned.

"Very well," he said.

oo0oo

They sat on a log, watching as the thin yet graceful forms of the thestrals slowly drew nearer, sensing that they meant no harm. They were sitting just next to each other and Severus was conscious of her scent, as he had been when she gave him a kiss on the cheek a month or so ago. Only this time it seemed even stronger. The smell of rain was something he was going to find hard to forget.

"It's a pity how ugly they are really," Eowyn whispered softly, her voice nearly being caught away by a slight wind. "They're such gentle creatures. And so intelligent. Once they get to know you they'll be forever your friends. And they're so protective of their young it's just adorable." She sighed and drew her knees up to her chest. "It just goes to show that looks can be deceiving."

"Always supposing you haven't learnt that from Lockhart," Severus pointed out.

Eowyn smiled briefly at him before turning her attention back to the thestrals. "It's a pity only people who've seen death can see them really."

"And I've seen plenty of it."

He winced. He hadn't meant to say it aloud.

There was silence for a while and then Eowyn asked, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked. He thought he knew what she was going to ask.

"Kill all those people. During the war." She was looking at him now. Not accusingly. Merely questioningly. She did not want to condemn him, he realised, only to understand him. And being understood … well he hadn't been understood by anyone for years. Did he want to be understood?

 _By her, yes._

So he told her. "It's hard," he said slowly. "It takes practice. You have a choice. You can strip yourself of all your human qualities. Mercy. Kindness. Compassion. You can think of yourself as nothing but a force to _do_. Or you can take away their human qualities. You can pretend they aren't screaming for you not to do it. You can pretend that they don't have brothers or sisters or children or toys. You can pretend that they are an obstacle. Just an obstacle with feelings and intelligence and a future. A future that you're going to snuff out. You can choose. I chose to do both."

There was silence. Then she asked, "Did it work?"

"No." He was glad of the increasing dark. She couldn't see the tear that slid down his cheek. That rambling explanation had brought back too many memories. Too many faces. Try as he might, he had never been able to forget the faces of those he killed. And he knew most of their names too. Many of them had never even been registered as dead by the Ministry of Magic. He wondered whether Dumbledore had covered up their deaths on his behalf. Strangely enough he didn't feel grateful. He swallowed, refusing to succumb to the swirling images that came behind his eyes. He wondered if she realised just how much of himself he had bared to her, how naked he felt.

But she did. She had heard the catch in his voice as he explained to her and she had heard the faint intake of breath, seen the faint glint on his cheeks. She wanted so badly to scooch over give him a hug. Or a tissue. Or some kind of comfort.

 _Or maybe that's just me being cold._

She shivered, wondering why she hadn't been sensible enough to wear a cloak.

Making up her mind she reached inside her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. She offered it to him with a quiet, "Here." Then, when he didn't take it, "Or I'll wipe them off for you."

He took it and hastily dashed away the salty drops of moisture that seemed to have miraculously appeared on his cheeks. He felt her hand resting on his shoulder. Her fingers felt cold and looking over at her he saw that she had no cloak. He, on the other hand, had more than enough layers on and was sure he could at least spare her his silver and green striped scarf. He pulled it loose and handed it to her. She shot him a smile and wrapped it around her neck then, seeing his eyes on her, asked, "Do I pass as a decent Slytherin, Professor?"

"If you kept that look on your faced and changed into uniform you'd be able to slip into seventh year classes without a problem," he said with a small smile. He wasn't lying. Sitting on the log with her feet dangling above the ground, her hair loose and a truly Slytherin smirk on her face, she looked so young and so carefree. His heart did one of its familiar plummets into his boots, though he was rather suspecting it was a natural reaction to get away from his brain which would begin to logically calculate just what a ridiculous situation he was in.

"So what about you," he found himself saying. "Did you never get given any unpleasant work to do in the war?"

The smirk faded from her face. "Yes," she said slowly, looking down at the ground. "It was just after Voldemort's fall. We were rounding up all the Death Eaters. This was before my experience with Catrina Skelet and Natalie you'll understand. We were hunting down this dark wizard and his apprentice. He was from Norway I believe and had travelled to Italy in search of sanctuary. When we finally tracked him down his apprentice had lost his wand. Couldn't defend himself. So the old man attacked us. Killed five aurors before you could say 'avada kedavra'. Wounded three more. When we finally had him on his knees I was ordered to kill him. I didn't want to do it. He was babbling away to me in Norwegian and I couldn't understand a word of it. But I don't think he was pleading for his life. He didn't strike me as the type. I told them that Mad-Eye would never stand for it. Murder in cold blood. But they told me if I didn't they'd kill my sister. She'd just gotten engaged then. I was meant to be at the wedding in a week. So I killed him. I used the killing curse on him. Maybe he deserved it. But the point is that I later found out he had no family. That boy, his apprentice was the only being in the world he had left. And I was one of those who helped drag that boy to prison."

She sighed, letting out a long breath before continuing. "I thought Mad-Eye would be furious about it when I told him. But all he said was, 'You did your best, Winnie. And that's all you can jolly well do.'" She sighed again. "It's a pity he's all jumpy and suspicious now. He's changed. But he's still glad to see me when I call."

Severus could not help but smile slightly at that. "So let me see, you visit Azkaban regularly to dish out chocolate to raving inmates, you look out for a Death Eater's daughter at Hogwarts, you look out for a half-mad mentor of yours, you take care of half Hagrid's animals for him and you have Lockhart pursuing you. Life does not get much more difficult does it?"

Eowyn could not help but laugh a little at that. "I do like a challenge," she observed.

"Well that explains your friendship with me then," he said, aware of the fact that he had stumbled a bit over the word 'friendship'.

She smiled brightly at him. "Oh you're not a challenge, Severus. Well, you were at first. Now you're just …" she thought about it for a second, "a pleasantly complex riddle that I have to solve."

"Do you think you'll solve me soon?" he asked. It was only half in jest.

"Maybe," said Eowyn. "Maybe not. That all depends on how much you're willing to tell me."

"Well if it's a story of how terrible Longbottom is at potion-making, make yourself comfortable."

"I meant about you," she said quietly, playing with the tassles at the end of his scarf.

Severus was silent for a while, watching her. He was weighing up the pros and cons of it all. She was his friend. She trusted him. He trusted her. She was willing to listen to whatever he had to tell. But … he had not spoken to anyone about such things for years. The last person he shared this information with was Lily.

Then he looked over at her again. She was looking at him. And there was a look of absolute trust in her eyes. He quietly asked himself a question.

 _Do you love her?_

The answer was surprisingly simple.

 _Yes._

 _Did you love Lily?_

 _Yes._

And what he had learned from loving Lily was that sometimes things don't go your way. Or, more to the point, things often don't go my way. So … that meant he'd have to make sure he hadn't done what he'd done with Lily. He'd have to be who he was, not try to be something he wasn't. So he opened his mouth and told her all about his father and his mother and his life at Spinners End. And in return she told him stories of her own childhood. He noticed that hers were considerably more amusing than his. But he also noticed that she was delightfully enraged at his father's behaviour and that she perfectly understood how he had felt.

"I had a horrible old aunt on my mother's side. Worst Muggle that ever existed. We had to stay with her one summer. It was torture."

oo0oo

They sat in companionable silence. They had long ago given up any pretence at distance and she was leaning her head against his shoulder, watching the younger thestrals play with each other. He felt warm, not only because of her close proximity but because of the happiness that he felt within him. It was not a familiar feeling (but then he was having many unfamiliar feelings lately) but it was a warm and contented feeling, with an aching edge of laughter to it.

"We should probably get back," he pointed out. It was almost entirely dark and he could barely see a thing. It wasn't that he wanted to. But for the sake of their health and their reputations he thought it better that they at least got back in time for the tale-end of supper.

"Think of it this way," said Eowyn presently, "every minute we spend out here is another minute that Lockhart spends fretting over his future trophy wife."

"If we think along those lines we'll be here the rest of the week," Severus pointed out.

Eowyn merely smiled. Just a few more minutes, she thought.

 **This may well be the longest chapter yet! Yay! Things will hopefully speed up a bit, now that Snape's emotions have finally decided to collaborate. See you soon! :)**


	35. Spreading the Christmas Cheer

Spreading the Christmas Cheer – 1992

"Well that was a close one," gasped Eowyn, slamming the door of the staffroom shut behind her.

"What?" asked Charity.

"Did Lockhart try to snag you under the mistletoe?" Septima asked, lazily scratching an 'x' onto one of her third year pupil's homework.

"How did you guess?" said Eowyn drily, collapsing into a chair and gratefully grabbing a mug of hot chocolate from the House Elf who scuttled up to her.

"It's a rotten tradition," said Severus from behind his book. "Some lovesick idiot probably just made it up as an excuse to snog some pretty girl who couldn't care less about his existence."

"That sound familiar to you, Eowyn?" Auriga asked. She had no homework to mark and so was keeping herself entertained by making long paper chains in colours that would make Albus Dumbledore suffer from vertigo.

"I don't know," said Rolanda with a smile. "If it wasn't for the mistletoe I know some people who'd still be dancing rings around each other."

"Has anyone ever tried to get you under the mistletoe, Severus?" Eowyn asked in a conversational tone.

Severus snorted and gave her his best 'what do you think?' look. "Right," said Eowyn, smiling slightly.

"The whole idea of Christmas is rather tedious I think," said Severus. "It's all very well when you're giving gifts to family and friends. But it's just damn unpleasant when you have to give a gift to someone whose guts you would gladly spread out on the floor."

"Well that's graphic," murmured Septima.

"Is 'someone' the new codename for Lockhart?" Charity asked.

"Potentially," said Severus.

oo0oo

Harry, Ron and Hermione were just passing Professor McGonagall's office when they saw Fred using a the levitating charm on George who was hanging a sprig of something green above the doorway.

"What on earth are you doing?" gasped Hermione, stopping dead in her tracks.

"Just spreading the Christmas cheer," said Fred with a broad grin.

"By putting mistletoe above McGonagall's office?" asked Harry, eyebrow raised in speculation.

"That's sure to make the world a happier place," said Ron sarcastically.

"It's not just any mistletoe," said George.

"It's magic," said Fred.

"So that you can't get out from under it," said George.

"Until you kiss the person," said Fred.

"Help," said Ron, gulping.

"And," said Fred.

"If you like the person," said George.

"It'll just let you go after the kiss," said Fred.

"But if you don't," said George.

"It'll give you both hay fever for the next week," said Fred.

"Charming," said Harry.

"But if you think about it -" began Hermione.

"Don't think," said George.

"It's a dangerous pastime," said Fred.

"Let me finish!" snapped Hermione. Both twins saluted, George still in mid-air. "If you think about it, it means that two people will have to be going through the door at the same time for them to have to kiss. The odds of that aren't very high."

"Not in any of the teachers' offices," said George.

"That's why we put one above the staffroom door," said Fred.

 **I love you, Weasley twins! Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you! :)**


	36. Doorway Death Trap

Doorway = Death Trap – 1992

"It's nearly time for classes, Eowyn," said Severus, giving her a nudge with his quill pen.

"I know, I'm just finishing this hot chocolate," said Eowyn.

"What is it with you and hot chocolate lately?" asked Auriga. "Last I looked you used to drink coffee like a normal person."

Eowyn shrugged and said, "Maybe I converted." The truth was that, since she spent much of her free time with Severus, she had begun to drink more and more hot chocolate. It had become her signature drink.

"Well I need to go," said Auriga, pulling herself free of her chair. "I've got an Astronomy Tower to climb."

"I still don't know how you manage that," said Charity. "I have to keep stopping every ten steps or so."

"Only every ten?" snorted Septima.

"Oh, shut up!" snapped Charity. "What about you, Eowyn?"

Eowyn grinned at them. "Unlike you lot, _I_ keep fit so you'll be pleased to know that I can run up all the stairs without stopping."

Charity stuck her tongue out and Septima groaned. "Perks of being an auror," she muttered, rising from her chair and following Auriga. "I'd better go too. See you lot around. Just three more days and then we're free. Woohoo!"

"Well, I have some first years to teach how to hold a broom," said Rolanda, rising and stretching. "Want to come and watch, Charity? If my old memory serves you have a free period today."

"Woohoo!" said Charity. "I can watch cute little idiots getting their brains smashed out in mid-air. What more could you want?"

She picked up a sketchpad (in preparation to catch the more embarrassing moves that the first years were likely to make) and headed after the Flying Instructor.

Eowyn finally drained her hot chocolate and gave Severus a prod. "Alright, we'd better go if we want our students to learn anything before the holiday."

Severus complied, laying his book down. "Will you be staying over the holidays?" he asked. He knew that Charity was going away to spend time with relatives and that Septima would be absent on New Year's Eve. He wanted to know if he was going to be stuck with all the 'old people' (Minerva, Albus, Filius and Pomona) or whether he was going to have her company. He hoped she was staying. It would be good to have her company. Someone to talk to while everyone else was being absurdly cheerful.

"Yup!" said Eowyn with a grin. "Though my sister has signed me up to spend Boxing Day with her husband and my niece and nephews."

"They're all Muggles right?" he asked. He always became mixed up as to who was magical or not in her family circle.

"Yes, except Kili," she said with a grin as she mentioned her brother-in-law. "He's certain that little Tauriel's got magic in her but I think he's got his hopes set a wee bit high. The boys, Jason and Benny, are at a Muggle high school. They love it. Jason's aiming to be an artist and Benny's set on being an engineer."

They had just reached the doorway. Just as they stepped out together they were both equally shocked to realise that they seemed unable to move past it. Some invisible barrier prevented them from moving forward and, when Severus tried, moving back.

"What on earth?" asked Eowyn, kicking at thin air.

"Look up," said Severus grimly.

Eowyn did. She didn't know whether she was supposed to groan or laugh or smile. A sprig of mistletoe had been pegged to the lintel. And, if she remembered conversation that she had overheard in Zonko's last week, it that particular kind of mistletoe wouldn't let you go until …

There was a brief, awkward silence.

"Well," said Severus drily, "I guess it's all in respect for tradition."

And he kissed her. It wasn't a long kiss. But it wasn't one of those short little brushing of lips which barely counted as anything. It was a kiss. Just a kiss. But when he pulled away all she could think was that she wanted him to kiss her again. But, as he said, it was in respect for tradition. And he was her friend. So she smiled at him and they both moved off.

"You know the druids used to collect mistletoe from oak trees at the time of the full moon," he said, "because that was the most magical time to collect it on the most magical tree."

"Like Getafix from Asterix and Obelix," said Eowyn.

"Who?" asked Severus.

So they walked off, still talking, leaving two very confused Weasley twins behind them, staring at the mistletoe.

"I think it's broken," said Fred.


	37. Christmas Day

Christmas Day – 1992

As always on this particular day, Severus dragged himself out of bed with a groan and laboriously pulled on a fresh set of black robes before heading out into the bright and cheerful world.

The enchanted sprigs of mistletoe were still hanging around the school, grim potential hazards. Bright decorations hung everywhere (curtesy of Albus Dumbledore). Snow rained gently from the sky to enforce the deep, rolling white blanket that already enveloped the hills. It was almost easy to forget about the monster lurking beneath the castle.

Sighing, Severus marched his way to the staffroom and unceremoniously plonked himself down in a chair with a mug of hot chocolate. The rest of the staff had already arrived (Eowyn was for once on time) and were already exchanging presents.

Presently Eowyn detached herself from the main body (who were sitting by the fire) and moved over to the corner where Severus was sitting. As had become her habit, she sat down on the floor next to his chair and kicked off her boots. For a few moments they sat in companionable silence before Eowyn said, "It's cold here – you should come sit by the fire."

"I think you will find it is rather too jovial for me over there," said Severus stiffly.

Eowyn arched an eyebrow at him and then said, "Well let's see if we can make you more jovial." She fished around inside her white trimmed green robes (thank goodness she had the sense not to dress in red and green like Dumbledore) and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. "It's for you," she said rather unnecessarily as she held it up to him.

Severus blinked at her for a second and then reached over and took it, laying it in his lap. It was heavy, he noticed, probably made of metal. There was a small card attached which said:

 _To Severus,_

 _Hope you have a lovely Christmas and enjoy the gift!_

 _Eowyn_

"Have a lovely Christmas?" Severus asked, eyebrow raised.

Eowyn shrugged and smiled. "The day's not over yet, Severus. There's still a chance for you to enjoy it. A chance I intend to exploit."

For a few seconds Severus just stared at her. She had worn her hair down today, so it hung around her face and shoulders in a golden-brown frame that glinted in the candlelight. Her eyes seemed to dance, like the ocean in a breeze and all he could think was he wished those dratted Weasley twins had put there mistletoe around the place more liberally.

"Well go on," said Eowyn, blissfully unaware of the thoughts going through his head, "presents don't open themselves!"

So he complied, slowly and clinically tearing the brown paper from what was wrapped within.

He was right, it had been made out of metal. It was a small model of the four hourglasses that represented house points. It was small enough to be put on his desk even, so that he could keep a close watch on which house was winning.

"How did you –?"

For about the first time in his life, Severus Snape was speechless. He stared at the little models, watching the little jewels glinting in the small glass hourglasses. Eowyn smiled and said, "Did I mention that one of my nephews was an engineer. Well I got some help from him and some other auror friends and made you these. They have a magical bond with the full-scale ones so that they will change as the real ones do.

 _Don't kiss her._

 _Don't kiss her._

"Well since now seems to be the appropriate time, I have a present for you," said Severus.

"Is it alive?" Eowyn teased.

"Not last I looked," drawled Severus. "It's at the bottom of the tree."

Eowyn raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, that's very traditional for someone who hates Christmas."

"I don't hate Christmas," said Severus, "I just hate everything that comes with it."

Eowyn collected the parcel from beneath the tree. It was obviously a book, heavy, rectangular shaped and radiating a feeling of magic. She went back to sit beside Severus, opening the small card that came with it.

 _To Eowyn,_

 _Merry Christmas_

 _From Severus_

Well, he was very to the point. Laying the card to one side she ripped the wrapping paper off. The book was bound in metal but, unlike many books she came across, did not look like it had been languishing away in a bats' grotto for several hundred centuries. In raised copper letters the title _Beasts of the Wizarding World_ stood out.

Eowyn frowned as she looked at it. "I've never heard of this book before," she said.

"That's because it's only due to come out next year," said Severus rather smugly.

Eowyn grinned up at him as she said, "I don't suppose the great Severus Snape has been doing something _illegal_."

The book was crammed full of diagrams, photographs, maps and samples, whether of fur, feathers, claws or scales. It contained information on almost every single magical animal that had ever existed and provided extensive background into their historical roles.

"Wow," was all Eowyn could manage.

"You like it?" Severus asked.

"Are you kidding me? I love it!" Suddenly she leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek, just like she had on their first night spent together. Then she was up and running off to show Minerva and her friends her new book. Severus looked back down at his present, letting the long strands of black hair that fell about his face hide his smile.

oo0oo

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron, dropping his snowball.

"What?" asked Harry, freezing. "Has Snape come out to tell as that we're going to break the sound barrier or something?"

"Well you're right about the first bit," said Ron, craning his neck around. "But I'm not so sure about the last bit. He looks a bit occupied."

"Occupied?" asked Hermione, trying to see what Ron could see.

"Yup," said Ron. "Come and look."

Hermione and Harry moved forward to stand next to Ron. The instant they saw what he saw their jaws hit the floor along with their snowballs. Snape and Professor Gondolin were having a snowball fight.

Hang on, I'll say that again.

Snape and Professor Gondolin were having a snowball fight.

You heard me.

A snowball fight.

"You're a cheater, Snape!" Eowyn cried, flinging a large lump of ice at Severus.

"You never said not to use magic," Severus pointed out, easily stepping out of the way of the missile intended for his head. "And careful, at the rate you're going you're going to give someone concussion, and not necessarily me."

Eowyn rolled her eyes, surreptitiously flicking her wand to make a dozen or so snowballs. "No surprise how you got into Slytherin, Snape," she said, sending a barrage of snowballs at him with a flick of her wand.

"Says you!" spluttered Severus, staggering back under the barrage of snow.

"Wait, I'm not done!" called Eowyn gleefully. She sent a shot of fire at the snow, melting it to a torrent of frigid water which was guaranteed to freeze into a layer of frost over his black robes.

For a few moments Severus remained frozen (both metaphorically and physically) then he said in the low tone of voice that had students whimpering in fear, "You just bought your ticket to Charon's ferry, my dear."

"Is this the moment when you rip off that mask of yours and the world goes black and you sweep me off to Hades?" Eowyn asked, hands on hips.

"Your sense of humour never ceases to amaze me, Professor Gondolin," said Severus sarcastically. "Or should I say lack of sense of humour?"

"Haha!" said Eowyn, giving him a shove. "Now come on. The wolves in the forest have had their pups. And you don't know anything until you've met a new born baby wolf."

"I'm guessing it's like trying to steal a chick from a vicious mother hen," said Severus, following her as she headed off to the Forbidden Forest.

"Imagine that. The Great Severus Snape being bested by a fluffy bird," said Eowyn with a laugh.

"She was scrawny, not fluffy," said Severus.

So the pair walked off into the Forbidden Forest, still locked in conversation and every now and again one giving the other a playful shove, leaving the Golden Trio staring in awe.

"Did we hallucinate that?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione for confirmation.

"I don't _think_ so," said Hermione. She didn't sound very certain of herself.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ron asked.

Harry was rolling around on the snow-covered ground, laughing his head off. "Snape got bested by a bird!" he yelled. "Snape got bested by a bird!"

oo0oo

"Well, that wasn't so bad was it?" said Eowyn, handing him a slice of apple pie with cream and a mug of hot chocolate with an extra dollop of cream and three more marshmallows. It was Christmas, after all.

They had retired to his rooms after spending the afternoon in the Forbidden Forest, arguing with a small pack of Acramantulas as to whether they were allowed to try and eat the baby wolves. Then they had stayed for dinner in the Great Hall. Severus had been surprised to find that he enjoyed himself. For once Hagrid actually managed to not put too many spices in the punch and he was seated between Septima and Minerva, making for an intelligent conversation while he was there. Eowyn wasn't so lucky. She had been trapped between Trelawney and Lockhart.

Lockhart. His blood burned slightly when he thought of him. He thought he had made his mark after the duel but apparently the blonde-haired baboon didn't seem to understand that Eowyn was _Off Limits And No Exceptions_.

But what if he was being too possessive? No, it was only with Lockhart that he felt this feeling. Whenever Eowyn spoke with Filius, Albus or any of the male students (even the handsome ones) he was not bothered. But _Lockhart_ … the man made him see red.

 _And how can she be 'off limits' if she's not even officially my girlfriend?_

He winced somewhat at that word. Girlfriend. So childish. So … he didn't know what. The fact was that she didn't have any connection to him beyond that of a close friend so, if you thought about it, she was actually out there for Lockhart to take if he wanted.

Looking across at her he admitted that he could see why Lockhart would be interested. He was a material man. If something looked nice, he wanted it. Eowyn had what material men wanted. Lockhart wasn't alone, now Severus came to think of it. There were more than a few senior boys who he had caught staring after her with big eyes and drooling mouths. He had experienced a vindictive feeling of joy when he docked twenty points each from their houses, Slytherin or otherwise. The fact was, she had what men wanted. She had the pretty face, the full lips, the perfect figure, the slender waist – everything.

He found himself wondering what she thought of him – grim, sour-faced and greasy-haired and swathed in black like Death's emissary. He knew she was not the sort to judge by appearances but still …

"Severus! Earth to Severus Snape, we want you back!" She was smiling slightly as she called his name, tapping a finger on the chair arm.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he asked. He couldn't help but feel guilty. She had made him hot chocolate in _his_ rooms and he had spent the past fifteen minutes ignoring her.

"Just that my sister has been needling me for the past ten years to bring a man to the table and that she really wants to meet the one male who actually appears more than twice in each letter I send her. Long story short, do you want to come to my sister's humble abode for Boxing Day?"

 _The one male who actually appears more than twice in each letter I send._

Maybe she …

He shook his head to clear it. Now he was just being fanciful. It was perfectly natural for her to want him to meet her family. She was a warm, welcoming person and she would want him, as her friend, to meet her family.

Would it be a good idea? From what he had heard, her family were not exactly pro Death Eaters, especially after the deaths of her parents. And he was not exactly the most sociable person.

"You needn't worry about being ripped apart as soon as you step in the door," said Eowyn with a grin. "She knows all about you. Though don't be surprised if you get quizzed on exactly _why_ you left Voldemort's cause and all that. Between Kili and I we'll try to make sure she doesn't tear you limb from limb."

It was a chance. A chance to spy out the lie of the land. He might not have a clue as to where he stood in her life, but he was certain of one thing, he loved her. And if he ever wanted her to be anything more than someone he admired from afar, he would have to find out how to play his cards.

"I'll come," he said.

Eowyn's grin suddenly grew impossibly wider. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed. It was all she could do not to clap her hands for joy. "We'll leave just before lunch and travel by portkey to Limerick. Remember to dress like a Muggle. You've got Muggle clothes haven't you?"

"I'll find some somewhere," he said.

"Right," said Eowyn. "And be sure to hide your wand. If Tauriel gets hold of it there might be trouble."

"Charming," he said.

oo0oo

She remained in his rooms until almost midnight, talking and arguing as usual. As they spoke he took his time to watch her. Maybe it was seeing Lockhart trying to seduce her, but he suddenly became even more acutely aware of how beautiful she was and how much she had come to mean in his life.

He had subconsciously changed the way he lived his life since she came. When he would once have sat glowering by his fire, brooding over his students' incompetence and old miseries or stalking through the corridors docking points from the innocent and guilty alike he now spent out walking in the forest or talking in the staffroom or his or her private quarters. Smiles had become a normal part of life. Laughter had become a daily procedure. He had never told anyone so many stories to a single person in his life.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?" he asked, focusing on her face. It occurred to him that the light was dying and he could barely see her face save for her eyes, which glittered softly.

"Penny for your thoughts?" There was a hint of laughter in her voice. No doubt he had fallen into another silent lapse.

"My whats?" he asked. His brain was slowly becoming clogged up with the warmth and the food and the exertion of the day (cough, cough, snowball fight, cough, cough).

She was really smiling now. "I think I'd better go, Severus. You're going to need to keep your energy reserves high for tomorrow."

She stood, rubbing her back slightly and setting her mug down. As she passed she gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "Christmas wasn't so bad was it, Severus?" she said, smiling.

"Not with you here."

She paused on hearing his words, freezing in the doorway as she turned to look at him. His breath caught slightly when saw her figure standing out against the torchlit glow outside. Shaking his head, he looked back at the fire.

 _Pervert._

 _Effing pervert._

"I'm glad to hear that," he heard her say. "Merry Christmas, Severus."


	38. Meeting the Family

Meeting the Family – 1992

"Ready to face the music?" Eowyn asked. They were standing outside the door to her sister's house, in the countryside outside Limerick. The farmhouse was two stories high with coloured lights strung all over the place in no particular pattern and a wooden sign with the words _Put Your Hands Up And Give Us ALL Your Presents Santa!_ written in unsteady crayon.

"Ready as I'll ever be," said Severus drily.

"You can say that again," said Eowyn. Then she smiled at him and said, "By the way, you don't look half bad in Muggle clothes."

"Once more, I remind you that you promised never to tell anyone of this," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Severus, I think your students would love to know that you loosen up a bit sometimes."

"I know. That's why I don't want you to tell them," he said. The truth was he thought she looked good in Muggle clothes too – a chequered black and purple shirt and flared jeans, her hair in a crude ponytail. It was a closer, less formal version of her. It was a version he thought he could get used to and well worth being forced into a black Muggle shirt and jeans.

"Right, try not to look like a Death Eater," said Eowyn. "She once beat up some trick-or-treaters with an umbrella when she saw their masks."

"Are you trying to scare me away?" Severus asked.

"No, just testing your endurance," said Eowyn and rang the doorbell.

The door instantly swung open to reveal a tall, slender woman with black hair held up by half a dozen hairgrips and an apron looking rather alien over a pencil skirt, blouse and a pair of cherry red stilettos. "Done standing at our door gossiping with your boyfriend?" she asked. Her voice was lighter than Eowyn's, the Irish accent stronger.

"Arwen …" called a man's voice from further in the house. "Remember what we agreed."

"Fine!" said Arwen. She held out a hand towards Severus. "Arwen Gondolin, the person you will have to cut in half if you want to get anywhere near my sister. Please come in."

"And you wonder why I don't bring any friends home," Eowyn murmured, following Severus and her sister in.

oo0oo

Severus had quickly come to the conclusion that Eowyn's brother-in-law, Kili, was his best friend in this house. The tall, dark haired Scotsman took him to one side away from his wife and sat him down for a civilised conversation while Eowyn was dragged off to the kitchen by her sister, no doubt to be interrogated as to what her relationship with Severus was.

"Your wife has a rather … interesting dress sense," Severus could not help but remark.

Kili smiled, stroking the head of one of the huge Irish wolfhounds that inhabited the house. "I know," he said. "She doesn't usually dress up for Christmas. Usually over the holidays it's all I can do to get her to dress in more than a dressing gown. I think the idea of Eowyn finally bringing a potential brother-in-law to the house has made her raise her guard. She'll intimidate you as much as possible and see whether you cave or not. It's essentially what Eowyn did to me when Arwen brought me home. Except she kind of went for the caveman with a cricket bat effect."

"I can imagine that," said Severus drily. "And just so you know, I have no interest in your sister-in-law beyond friendship."

"Sure you don't," said Kili and continued the conversation. But Severus wasn't sure that Kili believed him.

About halfway through a conversation about Defensive Spells he became aware of a pair of eyes watching him. Turning to look, he saw a head sticking out from around the doorframe that led into the lounge. The eyes, blue and bright and curious, stared right back at him, assessing him.

"That's Tauriel," said Kili. "Come on, you wee leprechaun. We won't tell Mom you've left the kitchen."

The girl came into full view, grinning now. She looked to be about eight years old but, judging by the height of her father and mother, Severus guessed that she must be one or two years younger than that, with dark hair cut in a bob at her chin. She came over to her father and sat beside his chair with the dog, just like Eowyn would do beside his chair, Severus thought.

They continued their conversation for a while now. But Severus couldn't help but glance at the child now and again. He wasn't usually a child person. Especially not a Muggle child person. But this child was almost certainly a Muggle and yet there was an intensity, an intelligence about her that was somewhat mesmerising. She was scrutinising him, he realised, looking him over in much the same way that Arwen had when he first came in the door. He wondered whether Arwen had sent her in to spy on him. He guessed it was a rational thing to do, what with his history.

He was rather surprised when she opened her mouth and said, "You're a wizard, right?"

Severus glanced at Kili and, seeing the smile of reassurance, said, "Yes, I am."

"So you have a wand?"

"Yes."

"And you can turn Brussel sprouts into chocolate balls?"

"Yeeees."

"Well I hate Brussel sprouts and Mom's making them so can you please do that?"

"You're asking me to defy your mother, who, according to what your aunt has told me, is a highly terrifying and successful lawyer who wears high heels for the sole purpose of stepping on the feet of people she can't stand?" Severus asked.

Tauriel thought about it for a moment before saying, "Yes."

oo0oo

"That's strange," said Arwen as they sat down at the table for dinner, "I could swear I prepared Brussel sprouts … large balls of Cadbury's chocolate."

"Who cares?" said Jason, reaching for the bowl. "I'll have a handful."

"No!" said Arwen, striking with a ladle in her son's direction. "Dessert comes _after_ the main course!"

"But you brought it out _with_ the main course," Benny pointed out.

"That's not the point," said Arwen. "Shloer, Severus?"

It turned out to be an extremely enjoyable evening. The food was wonderful for a start, even better than the Hogwarts cooking and the conversation was considerably more enjoyable than listening to Trelawney gabbling on about who was going to die this week.

Kili was an auror with a side interest in magizoology – in particular underwater creatures such as merfolk. He was an intelligent man and full of stories to tell but not plying Severus for stories of his own.

Arwen, after her initial 'greeting' was pleasant in her own way, with a sarcastic sense of humour that was surprisingly similar to Severus' own. No wonder Eowyn had found it so easy to cope with him. She had been dealing with her sister her whole life. She was rather more interested in his life before and during the war than her husband was, but seemed to know when to push a matter and when not to. She soon settled for exchanging stories of Lockhart, Trelawney and other incompetent people who they both worked alongside.

The boys, Jason and Benny, were intelligent, humorous and talkative, showering him with information as to what was going on in their Muggle school, groaning about their terrible French teacher and how they were hiding a cat in one of the drama rooms. Severus could not help but smile as he listened to them. Clearly making you laugh was a Gondolin trait.

Finally, Tauriel riddled him with questions. About the magical world, about magical creatures, about magical spells, about famous magical people and famous magical places. She expressed particular interest in Transfiguration, shooting so many questions at him, at such a complicated level that in the end he was forced to say. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask Professor McGonagall." To which Benny responded by saying, "High-five! You made the great Severus Snape admit that he doesn't know something!"

Then, when Severus raised an eyebrow at Eowyn she said, "You've made somewhat a name for yourself in this house."

"I noticed," said Severus drily.

Finally, they unwillingly admitted that it was time to go at almost one o'clock in the morning. Unwillingly – even for Severus. For the first time in a long time, he had well and truly enjoyed spending time in the raucous company of fellow human beings – most of them Muggles.

As Eowyn was hugging Tauriel goodbye and promising to send her more sketches of the magical animals at Hogwarts Arwen drew Severus to one side in the entrance hall. "First of all," she said, "I would like to know one thing. What was the first thing you thought of me when I opened the door today?"

"What?" he asked, blinking.

"Tell me," she said firmly, hands resting on her hips. "And answer honestly. If you lie I'll be able to tell."

"Why would you need my opinion?" he asked, confused. She did not strike him as the sort of woman to want the approval of others, and her tone did not say so either.

"Just do as I say."

 _The first word that would come to mind._ "Interesting dress sense," he said.

"Why so?"

"Most women tend to wear an apron with something more practical than – whatever kind of dress that is. I'm not a fashion expert but I'd say if you want it to last without oil stains, you'd have to wear something more practical."

Arwen nodded. It was hard to see in the dim light of the hallway, but he was certain he caught a look of approval on her face. "I see," she said.

Then Eowyn was with him and Arwen was hugging her goodbye and they were leaving.

"Well," said Eowyn, "what do you think?"

"I like them," said Severus. "Your sister is a bit strange though," he added.

"I thought you'd say that."

 **First I'd like to say a big thank you to FaithfulWarrior for her continued support for this fic. Don't worry, Arwen's peculiar behaviour will be explained in the next chapter. Hope you like it! :)**


	39. Messages From the Meddler

Messages from the Meddler – 1992

Severus was rather surprised, the next morning, when a very large tawny owl left a cylindrical package for him at the breakfast table. A note on the outside said in a deft, elegant hand:

 _Do not open this at the table unless you want to be publicly humiliated. You have been warned._

He frowned at it, but put it to one side for later opening and concentrated on thrashing Lockhart in an argument about how vampires were able to shave if they couldn't be seen in mirrors.

oo0oo

Eowyn was also given a package (much smaller than Severus') but the note instead said in the same handwriting:

 _Do not open this at the table unless you want that idiot Lockhart to think you want to impress him. Trust me._

Eowyn rolled her eyes. What was it with Arwen and sending potentially threatening notes?

oo0oo

Severus opened his present by the fire and surrounded by the usual plethora of books. He had tested the package on several occasions for jinxes but it had come away clean. He had tested the note for invisible ink and everything but they had all come away clean. Finally he opened it.

Two things fell out: a bottle of shampoo and another note.

The shampoo was specifically labelled 'for greasy hair' and the note said:

 _First of all, you pass the test for the question I asked you yesterday. What most men would say is 'curved'. You passed. Well done. You have my official permission to be my sister's boyfriend. No, wait – first send me your income, personal history and any other things which might come in handy. You're smart and not a pervert so you score two goals. But I need further confirmation._

 _Also, if you want to date my sister, you're going to have to do something about the hair. That's what the shampoo's for. Use it._

 _Arwen Gondolin-Erebor_

So that had been what the question had been about, Severus thought. Now that he thought about it, he remembered Eowyn's sister had a rather attractive figure, but it had never crossed his mind while at the house. He guessed he had been too busy trying to fend off Tauriel's endless questions and ignore the fact that Eowyn was killing herself laughing to pay that much attention.

Well, it appeared he had jumped through the first loop set up by the Gondolin family. He was a bit worried about the fact that both Kili and Arwen had seen through him. Was he that transparent? He was the enigmatic ex-Death Eater Potions Master – transparent did not even enter his vocabulary (except when describing potions of course).

He sighed and slumped back into his chair. This was just great. He hadn't a clue what he was doing and he hadn't a clue what to do next.

 _Face it Severus, you're pretty hopeless at this whole love palaver._

Palaver. He hadn't even known that word existed until she entered his life. She had done it. She was inside his head. He sighed, staring hard (and rather suspiciously) at the shampoo. His family had never been able to afford such luxuries. And he was rather hesitant to change now.

Eowyn's hair always seemed to shine and catch the light perfectly. He couldn't count the number of times he'd had to resist the urge to touch it, to twist a strand around his fingers.

 _My Snape, you're in deep._

He sighed, staring at the ceiling. "I need help."

oo0oo

Unlike Severus Eowyn knew who sent the mysterious package. So she felt comfortable enough to open it in bed in a nightgown.

Out fell a lipstick and a note.

 _Come on Arwen, you know I don't do fashion!_

The note read as follows:

 _Alright, spit it out, you're head over heels in (you know what I mean) or you wouldn't have brought him to our den of thieves. He passed the intelligence and the pervert test so he's pretty much on fire but I'm still extricating information from him._

 _Anyway, here's some lipstick. Use it for the power of good NOT to paint weird messages onto the bathroom walls._

 _Arwen_

Eowyn sighed and rubbed her forehead. Why did she have to have an older sister who was so perceptive? And why did she have to be so nosy?

Then she remembered that she had essentially hacked into the Ministry's records to find out about Kili while Arwen was dating him so she decided that she wasn't one to talk. She looked at the lipstick again and then flopped back against the bedclothes.

 _Use it for the power of good._

What qualified as the power of good? When was the last time she had worn lipstick? No, more to the point, when was the last time she wore lipstick correctly. The answer, rather unsurprisingly, was 'NE-VER'.

It wasn't like Severus would really care about whether she wore lipstick or not. He had called her beautiful before. And, unlike most men and boys she'd known, she did not think he meant it simply to flatter.

 _He'd just tell me it was a waste of time and money and that I'd be better off doing something productive with my life._

"I haven't a clue what I'm doing."

She wondered what he was doing now. Probably sitting by the fire, brooding. She always thought he looked so adorable when he was deep in thought. She had often teased him about it. She sighed again and rolled over.

"I need help."


	40. Word Association Game

Word Association Game – 1996

All was quiet in the staffroom. Not the companionable, friendly sort of quiet. It was the tense, there-is-an-evil-presence-in-this-room quiet.

Why on earth Umbridge had decided to join them in their safe haven, the professors did not want to know. So they sat behind books, coffee mugs and frowns and brooded about the various different ways that they could kill her.

Everyone knew it had got to be something to do with Eowyn's change in fashion and Mrs Malfoy's visit later in the day. The woman had been asking an infuriatingly long string of questions ever since, most of which the teachers had chosen to answer in monosyllables. Now they were all sulking and strung-up, a frame of mind which was becoming increasingly more common nowadays.

"Why don't we play a game?" suggested Charity.

"Yes, that's a good idea," said Minerva, trying to deal with some of the tension.

"Yes, I know a very good game," said Auriga, shooting Eowyn a wicked glance that made her sit up very straight.

"Monopoly?" suggested Filius brightly.

"Nope," said Auriga.

"Uno?" asked Pomona.

"Try again?" said Auriga.

"Chess tournament?" suggested Eowyn, glancing desperately in Minerva's direction. She thought she knew exactly what Auriga was going to say and she was practically begging her mentor with her mind to accept the idea of her favourite game.

To her horror, Minerva merely rubbed her temples and said, "I'm afraid I'm rather exhausted, Eowyn. I don't have the energy for that sort of concentration."

"Well guess what?" said Auriga with a clap of her hands. "Word association game!"

Eowyn threw a panicked glance at Severus, who was watching the scene with something akin to amusement. When she caught his eye she sent out a desperate _**You know what that means don't you?**_

For a second he stared at her blankly. Then _**Oh.**_

"How about Minerva first?" said Auriga, pouncing on the tired Head of Gryffindor House.

Minerva rolled her eyes, threw a disparaging glance in Umbridge's direction, and nodded in begrudging ascent.

 _This is going to be just like the time Rolanda made me play the game_ , she thought.

"Warm."

"Bed."

"Soft."

"Fur."

"Quick."

"Run."

"Colourful."

"Socks," said Minerva, yawning.

"What?" asked Charity, who was almost as shot as Minerva was after a long day's work.

"I'm allowed to have brightly coloured socks aren't I?" Minerva defended, mentally slapping herself.

"Do you?" It was Umbridge's voice, edged with clear suspicion.

"Yes, my niece made them for me," said Minerva, making a mental note to change all of her socks to polcadot patterns – just in case Umbridge decided to do some snooping.

"Alright. Charity."

"Whaa?"

"Helpless."

"Me."

"Disgusting."

"Pink."

"Spy."

"Zip-lip."

"Jerk."

"Snape."

"Hey!" exclaimed Severus, aiming a kick in Charity's general direction.

"Septima then," said Auriga, who was obviously enjoying herself. "Holiday."

"Needed."

"Needle."

"Hurts."

"Light."

"Hiss."

"Boyfriend."

"Two."

"What?" exclaimed Charity, suddenly wide awake.

"Well they're both handsome!" Septima defended.

"Go, girl!" exclaimed Rolanda Hooch, holding out a hand for Septima to high-five.

"Rolanda, that's hardly a good example!" Minerva protested.

"Och, shut up, we said the same things to you when you were sixteen!" shot back Rolanda.

"What happened when you were sixteen?" Umbridge asked.

Mentally screaming at Rolanda and physically grinding her teeth, Minerva somehow managed to smile and say, "I happened to be interested in quite a few boys when I was young."

Rolanda snorted and mouthed the words, "One and only and out of bounds."

Minerva glared at her.

"Alright, how about Pomona? Dragon?"

"Burns."

And on it went for the next half hour until finally Auriga said, "Severus?"

"What?" asked Severus, blinking at her like a bat caught in the sunlight. He had been well on the way to falling asleep in his armchair, but now he had been started out into the real world.

"Your turn," said Auriga. There was a wicked smile on her face that would have made the Sorting Hat immediately regret placing her in Ravenclaw. He was half asleep. Good. That meant choice pickings.

"Oh, great," muttered Severus. "Hit me with it."

"I will," murmured Auriga.

"We're with you in spirit, Severus," muttered Filius quietly.

"Shampoo."

"Arwen."

"What?!" asked Minerva, almost spitting out her coffee.

"A friend of mine," Severus hastily defended, ignoring the fact that Eowyn was practically rolling on the floor laughing. "She made me used it."

"And we are eternally grateful to her for that," Pomona Sprout murmured.

"Annoying."

"Lockhart."

"Argument."

"Eow-Eloquence," Severus hastily amended.

"Beautiful."

 _Don't say Eowyn!_ "Glass."

 _Well that was random._

"Girlfriend?"

"Teenager."

By now even the more innocent staff such as Filius had begun to notice a pattern in Auriga's questions. Eowyn's nails were firmly lodged between her teeth. Why did her friends have to be so mischievous? Umbridge was _right there_! They did not need her to know!

"Bed?"

"Sleep."

Eowyn shot Auriga a warning glare that clearly said 'that's just playing dirty'.

Auriga grinned back and continued in her excavation mission. "Heart?"

"Pulse."

"Sex?"

"Pass."

"Can't," said Auriga, eyes glittering.

"Auriga!" exclaimed Filius. "As Head of Ravenclaw House I command that you retract that question!"

"Thank you, Filius," said Severus.

"Fine!" said Auriga, throwing her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Fun."

"Eowyn."

Before mentioned person kicked him in the shin. Hard.

"What?" asked Umbridge, glaring at Severus from her candyfloss pink chair.

"She's the only person in here who isn't over fifty or," – he shot Auriga and her friends a disparaging glance – "obsessed with men, drinking and parties."

"Hey, those are my friends!" exclaimed Eowyn, feeling that they could do with some defence.

"Well it is true, Eowyn," said Minerva.

" _Thanks_ ," said Septima sarcastically.

"Nonetheless, I don't see what makes Eowyn more ' _fun'_ than anyone else in this room," said Umbridge with heavy suspicion.

 _Maybe it helps that she's a woman who knows her way around a bed._

"She happens to be the only person with whom I can conduct such complex conversations with in relation to my area of expertise," he said, going for the 'use as many long words as possible' effect.

"But I'm sure you enjoy much less complicated and arduous things as conversations together, am I right?" said Auriga, taking a swig of butterbeer.

"Why do you say that?" asked Severus, shooting Auriga a look blacker than death.

"Well," said Auriga, surrounding herself in a fake air of innocence, "you do spend a lot of time together. Lots of late nights. You can't spend _all_ that time just _talking_."

"Says who?" defended Eowyn. She was giving Auriga her best 'shut up or this will end in tears' face but apparently her friend was too busy contacting her inner Slytherin to notice.

"Well personally I've never spent that long with a man just _talking_ ," said Auriga.

"Well you're a fine one to ask!" snapped Minerva, feeling that it was time to step in.

"Well then ask Septima," said Auriga.

"Don't get me involved!" said Septima.

"Oh yes, we forgot, you're pulling a two-timer," said Charity with a chuckle. She then ducked to avoid the cushion that was flung in her direction.

"Are we playing a game or discussing our love lives?" snapped Severus. "Get on with it, Auriga?"

"How about Eowyn next, since she's looking _much_ more _awake_ since Severus' turn," suggested Umbridge, voice sugar sweet.

"Wonderful," said Auriga, for once agreeing with the High Inquisitor, earning her glares from various members of staff.

It started off innocently enough. Auriga asked, "Holiday?"

"Suntan."

"Ice cream?"

"Chocolate."

"Dog?"

"Licking."

Then things started to get problematic.

"Sheets?"

"Warm."

"Sneaking?"

"Shadows."

"Leaving time?"

"Two AM."

"What?" spluttered Minerva. How could anyone bear to disturb sleep like that. "The least you can do is leave at four!"

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued. Finally Filius summoned the courage to ask, "Leave where?"

"Well …" said Minerva, shifting uncomfortably, "at most parties I always tried to stay later …"

"What kind of 'parties' are we talking about, Minerva?" Rolanda asked, hawk eyes glittering evilly. "Were rather … pleasant affairs? Many people present?"

"Rolanda, shut your dirty mouth!" snapped Poppy, kicking her friend in the ankle.

"Just speculating," defended Rolanda.

"Just move on with the game already!" exclaimed Charity.

"Kiss?"

"Goodnight."

 _**Good save.**_ Severus congratulated her.

"Hand?"

"Waist."

Severus slowly cringed back into his seat.

"Kiss?"

"Knee problems."

"What?" exclaimed Auriga. "You never had any problems!"

"How would you know?" said Eowyn, folding her arms.

"Because she's a stalker!" said Septima, giving Auriga a shove.

"You never had knee problems," said Auriga.

"Maybe I'm just a good actress," said Eowyn.

"Now that I must contest," said Septima.

"Game!" shouted Rolanda. "And from now on I'm doing it. Enough foul play from you, Auriga. Now, Eowyn, breath mints?"

"Severus."

Severus shot her his _worst_ glare. Of course she would remember the night she had to lug him to bed drunk. Of course – the most embarrassing moments he had spent in her presence. Of course – because she was like that.

"What in the name of Merlin's greasy breakfast plate?" gasped Charity.

"He keeps them in his drawer," said Eowyn.

"And how would you know what is in Professor Snape's drawer?" questioned Umbridge. She was now giving the pair her full attention. Great.

"Maybe she's just very familiar with his desk," murmured Auriga into her drink. Charity elbowed her in the gut.

"I had to borrow a quill from him once," said Eowyn, shooting Auriga a glare which would have made Medusa envious.

"But –" began Umbridge.

"I think it's bedtime," said Minerva with finality.

"Definitely," said Filius, practically running from the room.

"The question is in whose bed we all end up in," murmured Auriga.

"You're walking on a red hot tightrope," Eowyn hissed.

 **Just for fun. :)**


	41. Experienced Advice

Experienced Advice – 1992

"Albus I need your help," said Severus from the doorway.

Albus froze, quill hovering over a letter to Fudge. A single drop of black ink slowly rolled down and dropped onto the page with a small _slotch_. Slowly Albus swivelled around to stare at the Potions Master before shaking his head and saying, "Sorry Severus, I thought I heard you asking for help. My old ears must finally be failing me."

"No," said Severus, his voice low. "You heard correctly."

Albus blinked at him. Then he finally gathered his wits together and said, "I see. Come and sit." He indicated the seat opposite him.

"I'd rather stand," said Severus. Albus noticed he was fiddling with the edge of his robe, something Severus _never_ did.

"I see," said Albus again. "Off you go, my lad."

Severus took a deep breath and plunged on. "Alright. I need help with a girl."

"A girl?" asked Albus, choking somewhat over the last word.

Severus rolled his eyes before saying, "Well, not a girl. A woman."

"A woman?" asked Albus, eyes wide.

"You're not helping, Albus."

"Of course, of course," said Albus. "Maybe we should walk." He rose and indicated the stairs leading down. It was nearly lunchtime after all.

Severus nodded and they set off down the steps. They had just passed the gargoyle when Albus asked, "What exactly is your problem, Severus?"

"Well," said Severus. He was definitely fiddling with his robe now. "I don't know if she returns my … feelings."

"What feelings might those be?" Albus asked. _Was it too much to hope for?_

Severus glared at Albus. "It is stinging enough to my soul to admit it to myself, let alone to you."

"I see," said Albus. Inside he was struggling not to do a jig inside. Severus Snape! In love! That was something. "Who, pray tell, is the lucky girl?" he asked. He was chancing his arm, he knew, but it was worth a try.

"You really think I am going to tell you that?" Severus asked, a dark eyebrow raised.

Albus shrugged. "At least tell me what she's like?"

Severus sighed and obliged. "Alright. She's funny, intelligent, ridiculous and – you know what, just imagine the opposite of me."

Albus walked on in thought for a while before saying, "Well, I'm sort of getting an image of a short, fat angel with a brain the size of a pea, the tact of a bludger and the guts of a squashed rat."

"What's your point?" Severus snapped.

"My point is that she cannot actually be that different from you," said Albus.

There was silence for a while. Eventually he said, "I guess so."

"So why do you say you love her?" Albus asked.

"I never said any such thing!" snapped Severus.

"So you don't?" said Albus, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," said Severus eventually, "I do."

"So, why do you say so?" Albus pressed him.

"Because," said Severus slowly, "she's managed to worm her way into my head."

"Charming," said Albus, trying to resist the urge to smile.

"I think about her when I've got nothing to do and even when I do have something to do I think about her anyway. I've started seeing her in other things. I've started wondering what she'd think of things. I've started to _change_."

"Really?" said Albus.

"Yes," said Severus. The poor man looked almost miserable. "I've changed the colour of the chairs in my rooms to green instead of black. I've started letting in more light into my office. I've started _talking_ to people. Gryffindor has actually been earning some _points_ this year."

"My, my," said Albus. It was all he could do not to smile. Whoever this woman was, he would gladly have given her a medal in that moment.

"That's not the worst though," said Severus darkly.

"Really?" asked Albus. "I'm dying to hear more."

"Not this you're not," said Severus. (Even more darkly.)

"Go right on, my lad," said Albus.

"I've started to think … thoughts I shouldn't," said Severus. His face was hidden behind a curtain of black hair, but Albus was certain that he was turning red. It suddenly occurred to him that Severus' hair was a great deal less greasy than it usually was, and had even began to take on an almost shiny quality.

"Severus," he said sternly, "have you been washing your hair?"

"So what if I have?" Severus' defensive tone said it all. "And aren't we going to start addressing my problem?"

"What problem?" asked Albus, genuinely confused.

"I said it once, I'm not saying it again!" snapped Severus.

"Oh," said Albus. He pretended to sink into thought for a while before saying, "Well I'll have you know you aren't the only one with that problem," he said.

"Really?" said Severus, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Really," said Albus, maintaining a straight face.

"Wonderful," said Severus heavily. Then, as a thought occurred to him, "You're not talking about Lockhart are you?"

In reality Albus had been thinking about himself, but Lockhart was an ample distraction from that. "I suppose so," he said.

"Lockhart doesn't count," said Severus savagely.

"So what do you intend to do about her?" Albus asked.

"That's the problem," sighed Severus. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't just tell her!"

"Why not?"

Severus gave him his best 'isn't it obvious' glare before realising that Albus meant it. "I can't just come out and _say it_!" he spluttered.

"I suppose it would be inconsistent with everything she knows about you so maybe not," said Albus thoughtfully. Severus rolled his eyes and waited for a barrage of wise advice. "Has she professed interest in spending time with you, Severus?"

"Yes," said Severus instantly.

"Does she enjoy your company?"

"Last I looked, yes."

"Does she have a good heart?"

"Yes!" _Merlin's beard, where is this going?_

"Then what should hold you back?"

"I'm … not certain."

"Well, in that case, you will only be certain when you know whether she returns you affections," – Severus winced at that word – "if you ask her. And, since you do not seem to be able to do such a thing, do what I did."

"What did you do?" asked Severus.

"I walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the lips," said Albus, face perfectly straight.

"What?" asked Severus, blinking. Surely, surely he had blacked out for a moment and missed the crucial piece of information.

"You heard correctly," said Albus.

"What did she do?" Severus asked. He was tempted to know who 'she' was but decided for his emotional safety not to ask.

"She slapped me so hard that I fell back into the mud and got a black eye. Whether it was from the slap or the ground I was never certain," said Albus, staring thoughtfully into space.

Severus sighed and rubbed his forehead. This conversation had, if anything, only made him even more confused as to what to do. Sighing again he said, "Never mind, Albus. I'll figure it out myself. But rest assured that I will blame you if I end up in the Hospital Wing with the nosebleed of the century." And he marched on into the Great Hall.

oo0oo

 ** _At the same time, in McGonagall's office_**

"Minerva, I need your help," said Eowyn from the door.

"Come on in, dear," said Minerva, with an absent wave of the hand. She heard Eowyn walk over and plonk herself down with unusual heaviness into the chair opposite.

"I have man problems," Eowyn groaned, before Minerva had time to ask her.

"Lockhart again?" Minerva asked, scratching an Outstanding onto Hermione's homework.

"No," said Eowyn. "Another man."

Minerva looked up, narrowing her eyes at Eowyn. "Don't tell me you've been dating and the harpies haven't told me?" she said, referring to Eowyn's three best friends by the colloquial name for them.

"The harpies don't know," said Eowyn. "I didn't tell them because I wasn't sure it was wise."

"What's wrong with him?" asked Minerva, glaring at Eowyn fiercely over her glasses.

"What?" asked Eowyn.

"He's older than you isn't he? If he's fifty years or more older than you, there is not a chance by the blood of Merlin that I am letting you get anywhere near him again!"

"Well you're hardly one to talk!" Eowyn pointed out.

"How many years?" Minerva pushed.

"No! That's not the problem," said Eowyn. This was not how the conversation was meant to go. "He's only two years older than I am."

"Married?" Minerva asked.

"No."

"Death Eater."

 _Ummmm._ "No."

Minerva leapt to her feet, a look of horror on her face. "Don't tell me you're pregnant?" she hissed.

"No!" said Eowyn, standing up and reaching out a hand to grip her surrogate mother's shoulder in reassurance. "Calm down, Minerva. It's nowhere near as bad as that."

"You're sure you aren't pregnant?" said Minerva, allowing Eowyn to guide her back to her seat, but still wary.

"Positive," said Eowyn. "We haven't even … you know."

"Well that's a relief," said Minerva with a sigh.

"Once again, you're not one to talk," said Eowyn.

Minerva glared at her.

"But that's sort of what I've come to talk to you about," said Eowyn, twisting her hands.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Come on, Eowyn, don't tell me that after nineteen years spent as a close friend of Auriga Sinistra, you don't know what to do with a man and a bed!"

"Well it's not the specifically," said Eowyn, going red. "It's the steps on the way to that that I'm having a problem with."

"Oh," said Minerva. Then she saw the time. "Tell me while we walk."

As they walked down the corridor Minerva turned back to Eowyn and said, "Explain."

Eowyn sighed and said, "Alright, I'm certain of one thing and one thing alone in this whole scenario. I love him. The problem is –"

"Does he return your feelings?" Minerva finished.

"Hey, this is my story!" said Eowyn, giving Minerva a weak shove.

"Hate to break it to you, my dear, but you aren't the only one who's got rights to that particular story," said Minerva. Then, seeing Eowyn's face. "Alright, dear, I'll listen. First of all, tell me what he's like."

"He's a git," said Eowyn. "Well … he used to be. He sort of isn't now. He's sarcastic and doesn't appreciate the idea of human contact. He can be snarky and irritating. He loves arguing and sweet stuff – particularly mints. He's always there to get me out of sticky situations (cough, Lockhart). And, I guess he's sort of sweet in his own way."

"My," said Minerva, "I thought you were describing Severus up to the snarky and irritating bit."

 _Well, that was close._

"My problem is, I haven't a clue what he thinks of me. He's certainly a wonderful friend but … I'm just not sure …"

"Well," said Minerva, "in my experience you need to drop hints. Show him that you're interested."

"Did it work?" Eowyn asked.

"No," said Minerva.

"Well, that's a huge help!" said Eowyn.

"Just out of interest, how close has he let you get?" Minerva asked.

"Very," said Eowyn. "Close enough to put his arm around my shoulders. But that might have just been because it was cold."

 _That sounds familiar,_ Minerva thought.

"I would say give him a chance. If there's anything that'll make a man consider his feelings for you it's a rush of cold air, adventure and a holiday."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Minerva, but Christmas is passed."

"There's still New Year, dear," said Minerva.

"Can't I just walk up and kiss him or something? Something simple?"

"No. That's the sort of thing old maniacs do." _Trust me, I know._ "Don't do that! Be subtle."

"I hate being subtle," Eowyn groaned. Then, as they neared the entrance to the Great Hall, "I'm off to go get some advice from the harpies. But don't blame me if I end up dancing around the idiot for the next twenty-four years because of your advice."

Minerva stopped near the doorway, where Albus was standing, lost in thought. "Have you noticed our little ones have been acting rather strangely lately?" he said.

 **I love this chapter so much I'm going to publish it as a fun little one-shot as well since I think it can be funny in it's own right. Hope you enjoy! :)**


	42. Count-Down

Count-Down – 1992

Eowyn woke up on the last day of the year with a clear purpose in mind. She rose at seven o'clock exactly and dressed in a dark green dress (a proper one, no trousers this time) with her hair in a loose bun and, with great care, applied the lipstick. She stood in front of the mirror and carefully dusted herself down, despite the fact that there was nothing to dust off. She looked herself over and finally decided that she was as ready as she was ever going to be. Operation Severus Snape had officially begun.

She allowed herself a last second of doubt and then turned and headed for the door, praying to whatever gods might be out there that Lockhart had found some other poor woman to ogle for the day. It was the New Year soon, after all. And she was fairly sure that with Lockhart a new year meant a new lady.

Unfortunately for her, the moment she walked into the Great Hall, every male's eyes were firmly fixed on her. She mentally slapped herself as she took her seat. Of course Lockhart was staring at her as though she was a giraffe in a zoo.

 _This had better be worth it._

She chanced a quick glance at Severus to see his reaction and was privileged to notice that his conversation with Filius had come to an abrupt standstill. Poor Filius, ever innocent in such matters, could not understand why Severus suddenly found the other end of the table so interesting.

"Alright," Septima whispered, leaning over, "what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Eowyn asked, faking innocence.

"Come on," said Septima, "I've never seen your wear a skirt whenever you can wear trousers."

Eowyn decided to cut the chase. Well, part of it. "Alright, I have a man to impress."

"Is it Lockhart?" Charity asked.

"No! Of course not!" Eowyn scoffed.

"Well then good for you!" exclaimed Septima. "That makes the first proper boyfriend since … forever."

"Just shut up, you're not boosting my confidence," snapped Eowyn.

oo0oo

Severus hadn't really woken up with any particular purpose in mind beyond surviving another holiday. The moment Eowyn had walked in the door however, he had changed his mind. The sight of Lockhart eyeing her up had been the last straw. Severus still hadn't a clue what he was supposed to do, but he had an aim now. It was going to be today. Today or never.

He wondered if she'd done it on purpose. The hairstyle was nothing new but the dress and the lipstick had _got_ to be intentional. For a moment he felt doubt flicker into his mind. Maybe there was someone else she was trying to impress.

 _Definitely not Lockhart._

It was quite possible really. He reminded himself once more that she, unlike him, was widely considered attractive, smart and stylish in her own way, so it was definitely possible. He decided he would just have to wait and see and not look at her lips. Especially the last one.

But until then he was going through the hell of listening to every schoolboy in earshot going all saucer-eyed at her. Before he knew it he was docking points right left and centre and in the end just gave up and let them talk, quietly stewing inside.

He had just made it through most of the day when he was unfortunate enough to run into Lockhart standing in the middle of the corridor, staring down a flight of stairs as doe-eyed as they come.

"Lockhart, you're blocking the way," said Severus curtly, ignoring the whispers of "push him down the stairs" coming from a group of fifth years.

"But she's worth blocking the way for, isn't she, Severus," said Lockhart dreamily.

Severus chanced a glance in the direction Lockhart was staring and was not surprised to see Eowyn standing talking to the red-haired first year, Natalie Skelet. They were locked in conversation and so were totally oblivious to the stares that Eowyn was accumulating and the two wizards watching her.

"I went to see her just yesterday," Eowyn was telling Natalie, "and she seems alright. She was a little groggy and confused at first but after I fed her a load of Cadbury's twirls she eventually came round to the point where she could talk. She's overjoyed to hear about you making friends and let's just say she made it pretty clear what her opinion of the … um … peacock is."

 _So, that's the codename for Lockhart now. It suits, I guess._

"And did you give her my present?" Natalie asked.

"Of course, how could I forget," said Eowyn with a warm smile. "She loved it. Says she can't wait to read the book and the blanket will keep her warm for the most part. I showed her all the photos from this year and – you know what, I'll talk to you about it later. Come to my rooms after lessons and we can discuss it in private over some hot chocolate."

"How's the case for a re-trial going?" Natalie asked.

Eowyn sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We're doing what we can. But it's been going ever since you were four, Natalie so I can't say we'll see a development any time soon. But maybe when you turn thirteen we'll be able to bargain for you to at least be able to go see her, face to face."

"For the first time in my life," said Natalie, breathlessly.

Eowyn smiled. But there was a hint of steel resolve in that smile. "Yes," she said. "And I'll be damned if I don't at least let you see her and talk to her."

"Calm down, Professor," chuckled Natalie. "I'll see you later in the day then."

"And I must be getting on. I have tea with Professor McGonagall," said Eowyn with a smile. "Free period, you know."

"Oh, the joys of being a professor," Natalie chuckled, moving off.

Eowyn smiled after her and began to ascend the stairs. Severus suddenly became conscious that Lockhart had been talking to him all the time.

"… if only she would dress like a lady more often. She would be much more attractive and feminine. But the hairstyle still needs work. A pity about the shade. If she would only choose between blonde and brown … And the lipstick could be redder."

"I'm sure if she was a harlot out for sale, it would be," said Severus coolly. The truth was his blood felt like it would boil to steam. "And remember Lockhart, not everyone is as _perfect_ as you. Some of us just happen to be satisfied by who we are."

"My, my, Severus, what induced such a spurt of deep thinking?" Eowyn's warm, teasing tone served to abate some of his frustration, cutting off his lecture before it could begin in earnest.

"I thought you knew Eowyn," he said, adopting a straight face, "I think deeply all the time."

"All the time?" Eowyn asked, smiling.

That smile. The way her eyes twinkled. The teasing tone in her voice. The answer was most definitely a 'no'. However that sounded rather flippant so he went for, "It all depends on the situation."

"I must agree," said Lockhart, who apparently felt that he was not getting enough attention. "For example, it does not take much thought to take on a simple thing such as a dragon but a vampire, cunning creatures that they are, takes much more forethought. For example –"

"Lockhart, I can assure you that I have had to tackle both dragons and vampires during my travels as an auror and I know exactly what to do with them. Furthermore, I will tell you that dragons are no simple matter and vampires can be dealt with easily enough as long as you do not allow anything related to blood, veins, arteries or sunlight. Now, I must be getting on. I have more _profitable_ things to do than gossip in corridors."

And with that she was off, throwing Severus a small smile as she went. Of course Lockhart (curse his monstrous ego) instantly thought it was meant for him and grinned smugly. Severus sent her a small smile in return and heading off to his class.

He still hadn't a clue what he was going to do.

 _Curse Albus and his confounded advice._

oo0oo

Eowyn had tried to get hold of Severus earlier but she had become rather distracted by Natalie, who had stayed longer than was really necessary, talking and discussing things such as the likelihood of Lockhart surviving the year (very low according to Natalie) and so before she knew it, the early winter darkness had fallen and a cold wind was blowing from the north.

As she walked up to the castle she remembered Minerva's words: "If there's anything that'll make a man consider his feelings for you it's a rush of cold air, adventure and a holiday." Maybe there was some merit in that. It was cold and today was New Year's Eve. All she needed was the adventure part.

 _Well, that's easily solved._

oo0oo

Rolanda Hooch and Minerva McGonagall were standing in biting cold outside the broomshed, arguing over the practicalities of setting off fireworks on the Quidditch pitch at midnight.

"But Rolanda, you must see that it's incredibly dangerous. One firework gone wrong and the whole _wooden_ Quidditch pitch will go up in flames. And you know they'll never forgive you for that!"

"But Minerva, these are trained Quidditch players we're talking about," Rolanda pushed. "The very best from Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

"That's the problem!" snapped Minerva. "Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs don't get on. Slytherins and Gryffindors hate each other. They'll try to sabotage their rivals. Brooms, wands, fireworks, hair – they'll find a way to make it a disaster!"

"Curse this school and all its stupid rivalries," Rolanda muttered. Then, seeing Eowyn, "Ah, Winnie, want to go for a ride over the lake?"

"Are you crazy, Rolanda?" Minerva exclaimed. "It's freezing up there and the wind feels like the Ice Queen's breath! Are you trying to kill her?"

"Och, Minnie!"

"Don't call me Minnie!"

"Of course," Rolanda grinned evilly, "only dear, darling Albus is allowed to call you that."

"Rolanda!" Minerva's face was a very, _very_ bright shade of red.

"I'm afraid I can't go for a ride, Rolanda," Eowyn said. "I'm going off for the evening."

"And miss the countdown!" exclaimed Rolanda. "And the fireworks? Are you mad?"

"Calm down, Ro," said Minerva, laying a calming hand on her friend's arm.

"So it's alright for you to call me Ro eh?"

"Shut up, Rolanda."

"Yes, ma'am."

"She has a life beyond this school, Rolanda," said Minerva sternly. "If she wants to go out and snag a man she can do so."

"So _that's_ what you're doing!" exclaimed Rolanda, leaping forward. "I wondered what the change in dress code was for!"

"Alright, Ro," said Minerva placatingly, "we'd best go before she reaches the world record for reddest cheeks." Then, to Eowyn, "Remember what I said."

"I will," said Eowyn, ducking her head down as she entered the broomshed.

oo0oo

A knock on his door brought him to the alert. Severus instantly grabbed a sheet of random paper and tried to look like he was actually doing work when he was actually doing a mental calculation as to the odds of Eowyn Gondolin slapping him in the face if he kissed her.

"Severus, it's me," said a voice through the door.

"Come in," he called.

He heard the creak of the door opening and then the sound of her feet walking over to sit in a chair beside him. "Severus, why are you reading an article about cleaning products?" he heard her ask, voice bubbling with held back laughter.

"Maybe I think Mr Filch could do with a cleaning upgrade," he defended, turning a little to face her. She must have been outside because her hair was tangled all around her face. He _really_ wanted to pull his fingers through it to try to straighten it.

"Well much as I am aware of Mr Filch's faults, I think he knows what he's doing when it comes to cleaning supplies," said Eowyn. Then she got down to business. "Severus, I was wondering if you'll like to take a fly around the lake."

"On a broom?" he asked.

Eowyn rolled her eyes. "No, on a pumpkin. Of course on a broom, Severus!"

He blinked, trying to comprehend. "Why?"

Eowyn shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Well, it's New Year's Eve. Why not have some fun? I'm sure you don't need to research cleaning products _that_ much."

For a few minutes Severus stared at her, trying to comprehend this move. It was almost certainly only for the fun of it. But there was a chance … just a small chance that she might be doing this for a reason. A very specific reason. He decided to wait and see.

"Very well," he said, "but this does not go any further than this room, you understand?"

"Because it would ruin your reputation as the snarky jerk, I get it," said Eowyn with a grin, leaping to her feet. "I brought your broom from the broomshed as well as mine. Come on. Let's go."

oo0oo

It was freezing. In ordinary circumstances he would have whirled around and strode back into the warm of the castle without a second thought. But these were hardly normal circumstances.

He hadn't quite known what to expect when Eowyn proposed a fly around the lake. However, he was fairly sure it was not the wild goosechase that ensued.

As they rose up into the air above the school he heard a swoop of air above him and, looking up, saw the glittering gold of the snitch above him. Then he heard Eowyn's voice calling, "First one to catch the snitch wins. Come on!"

"I didn't play for the team!" Severus called back.

"So you mean you're incompetent? Sad!" She was riling him on and he knew it. Sighing and rolling his eyes in a token gesture of impatience, he shot up towards the small golden ball which promptly shot off down towards the lake, where the light from the castle windows glittered and reflected in the dark.

"Ha! I saw that!" he heard her yell and soon a rush of wind signalled her descent.

"Not going to happen!" he cried, swerving across her, making her do a double somersault to get out of his way, screaming something that would probably have offended him greatly if he spoke fluent Gaelic.

But the snitch was gone now. He skimmed over the surface, hunting for any trace of it, dodging her every now and again in his hunt for the gold ball.

Then, in a whirr of wings it was above him and she was hurtling through the air towards it. He moved up, just a little too slowly and she sailed past him, the snitch grasped in her hand, laughing.

"I win the first round!" she cried. "Now off you go ma wee fellow! And make it harder this time!" And she released the snitch into the gathering dark.

Over the course of the next two hours they did nothing save chase the snitch back and forth and up and down across the lake and even around the towers of the castle. They were probably seen by a few students. But Severus found that he didn't really mind. He couldn't remember ever being able to play with the snitch. Not properly. Back in the day Lucius and some other Slytherins who would later go on to be Death Eaters had played a little with him. But all too soon those days were passed and darker things took the place of the fun.

Now, he found himself forgetting all that. All he could feel was the biting cold of the air that rushed past him and the smoothness of the wooden broom beneath him. All he could think of was the snitch, sometimes darting into sight and other times vanishing into the dark. He found himself laughing and shouting ragged insults at her as she teased him about his clumsiness, urging him on in a way that was quite Gryffindor.

By the time she called a halt to the game he was exhausted, heart thudding faster than it had in a long time and thoroughly beaten thirteen to four.

As they both landed by the broomshed he told her rather breathlessly that, "Next time, I'll win."

"Really?" said Eowyn. He was pleased to notice that she was panting too. Clearly being the Ravenclaw keeper didn't guarantee you everything. "And when is this 'next time' going to be?"

"A time when I've learned how for the love of Merlin's multi-coloured pyjamas to catch a snitch," Severus said. He couldn't help but shake his head slightly at his joking tone. Despite the alarming frequency with which such light-hearted moods took him nowadays, he was still shocked, wondering why she was able to somehow blow all the clouds away.

"Maybe you could get lessons from Potter," she suggested, then almost fell as he stuck out a foot to trip her up.

"Greasy git," she muttered, smiling to show she didn't mean it.

"If you weren't wearing skirts it wouldn't be so perilous," he pointed out.

"You just be glad I'm wearing skirts else I'd have won more times than Longbottom's blown up a cauldron," Eowyn retorted.

They had almost reached the Entrance Hall now and Severus was dimly aware that, down in the Great Hall, everything had gone silent, as it always did in preparation for the count-down to midnight.

"Why are you wearing skirts?" he ventured to ask.

"It's a holiday," she pointed out, smiling. Although the smile looked a little nervous now.

"Christmas was a holiday," he pointed out. "And so was Halloween."

"Yes, well, something special is supposed to happen tonight," she said, smiling again.

They were standing just in front of the double doors that led into the Entrance Hall. He thought of Albus' advice again. Now was just about as good a time as any to get slapped around the head, he thought grimly. And at least it wouldn't be in front of a load of people.

" _Ten!_ " came the cry from the Great Hall.

Eowyn hadn't a clue what was going through his head. He was looking at her with a look in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. Usually his emotions were easy to read, but now she wasn't sure. She was confused.

" _Nine!_ "

She had done everything Minerva had said. Cold air, adventure and a holiday. All the boxes ticked. And on top of that she had worn Arwen's blasted lipstick (which she was definitely throwing away after today, whether it worked or not).

" _Eight!_ "

There was a bush to his right which wouldn't be _too_ painful if she slapped him into it. He had no doubt that any slap from her was likely to send him careening to his doom.

" _Seven!_ "

On the other hand if she slapped him to the left he would end up smashing straight into the heavy double doors. And he rather liked his skull unbroken.

" _Six!_ "

He looked almost as though he was assessing the risks of something, the way Mad-Eye looked when he was trying to plan how to catch some rogue Death Eater. Yes, that was part of it. But she could make out other things going through his head as well.

" _Five!_ "

Uncertainty! That was it! But that couldn't be right. The very idea of an _uncertain_ Severus made her want to laugh. He was always so sure about everything. Try to prove him wrong and you were in for a _long_ , _hard_ and _uphill_ battle. But now that she had seen it in his eyes she was sure. He was _uncertain_. But why?

" _Four!_ "

And there was something else there as well. Longing. Whatever he was going to do, he'd wanted to do it for a long time. No, scratch that. A _looooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg_ time. There, that's more like it.

" _Three!_ "

"Severus?"

"What?" he asked, starting like a four-year-old boy caught stealing from the cookie jar.

" _Two!_ "

If she was wrong, he would think she was an idiot. But if she was right … And it was worth the risk. As she saw it the signs were all there.

"You can kiss me if you want to, Severus," she said.

" _One!_ "

For a split second everything was frozen. She unconsciously crossed her fingers on each hand.

Just as all the residents of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry screamed, " _ZEROOOO!_ " at the top of their lungs, Severus leaned forward and kissed her.

Just to be clear, Eowyn wasn't a novice in the whole kissing thing. She'd been kissed exactly four times during her high school carrier. ***** But this wasn't like any of the other times.

This time it felt as if a small shock of electricity went through her body, making her feel warm and tingling and at the same time very awake and very asleep. And then he pulled her closer and snared his fingers in her hair, tilting her head ever so slightly to deepen the kiss and it was all she could do to stay upright. It was as if her knees suddenly stopped working.

It was over all too quickly and he pulled back, leaving her slightly breathless but still holding her close.

"Well," she managed, "for a man who claims to never have had a girlfriend, you sure know how to kiss!"

"Glad to hear that," he chuckled. "Now all I have to do is find another word for girlfriend."

She never got the chance to laugh properly. She was cut off by another kiss. And by Merlin's broken spectacles it was even better than the first.

 **Didn't want to ruin the mood by listing Eowyn's four encounters. So here they are. :)**

 **Kiss No. One had been in third year, curtesy of Aquila Black overstepping the line. She had given him a knee between the legs before he got a chance to do anything properly.**

 **Kiss No. Two had been in fourth year, curtesy of James Potter who was dared to by Sirius Black who apparently thought the idea of seeing his friend turned into a toad was tremendously funny. Eowyn, who wasn't so fond of extreme saliva exchange, was less amused and turned Sirius into a praying mantis. That made James feel a little better.**

 **Kiss No. Three (in sixth year) was the only one for which she actually gave consent and was curtesy of Robin Kurk, her Hufflepuff boyfriend. He had been killed two weeks later by Death Eaters.**

 **Kiss No. Four had been in seventh year when a drunk Jason Monmouth came tottering up from Hogsmeade and mistook her for his girlfriend. We don' talk about that incident.**


	43. Proposal

Waking Up To Your Face - 1998

His first thought was that his neck hurt. A lot. Like having a load of small, hot needles jammed into his skin. For a while he simply lay, slipping in and out of consciousness as the pain ebbed and flowed like the changing tide. Then, as it slowly faded, he began to think. The last he could remember was loud noises. Screams. Wails. Blood. He winced. Why did it all have to come back?

 _But why does my neck hurt?_

Of course. The bloody snake. He hadn't even been given a chance to fight the Dark Lord. That was what frustrated him the most. The least he could have done was given him an injury. Then he could die knowing that he had accomplished _something._

But he wasn't dead. That he was sure of. He was alive. The question was where was he. And where was Eowyn? The last he had seen of her head been back at Hogwarts, screaming at a group of foolish students to retreat as she took on one Death Eater while twisting another's arm. He hoped she was alive, wherever she was now. He hoped she wasn't worrying about him.

Slowly he forced his eyes to open and take in the world around them. It was dark, that much he could make out. Somewhere a way away he could make out the faint glow of a lamp. He was lying in a warm bed with a thick woollen blanket on over him. He sensed he wasn't wearing his usual black ensemble. Looking down, he realised that he was wearing his striped pyjamas. Looking about he realised that he was lying in the Hospital Wing. Around him he could hear the rhythmic breathing of other bodies. So they'd had time to bring all the people into the Hospital Wing? And put them in their pyjamas? That meant they must have won! For the first time since his wakening he allowed hope to glimmer within him. Maybe Potter had done it. Maybe he had killed the Dark Lord.

Severus' rejoicing abruptly faded as he realised that if he was in his pyjamas, _someone_ had _undressed_ him. That meant someone had seen him _naked_. And he was _not_ comfortable about that, no sir.

 _Unless it was Eowyn._

Eowyn was the one and only exception.

Eowyn. Where was she?

Just as he thought that, he heard a soft sigh next to him and turned over, ignoring the pain that stabbed through his neck. She was sitting in a chair next to his bed. If sitting was the right word. 'Curled' came to mind. She was fast asleep. Her hair was tangled about her head like a rustic halo, a few pins still stuck in it. She was no longer dressed in her teaching robes (they were probably ruined forever by all the blood and stains) but in her Slytherin green dressing gown. He could see scratches on her faced and hands. Her feet were blistered and bruised. New additions to her collection of scars. He guessed he would have a few himself. More than a few. He wondered what would happen to the Dark Mark now that Voldemort was truly gone. Would it fade away? He hoped so.

A stirring next to him told him that Eowyn was waking. She opened her eyes and blinked at him owlishly, wiping the sleep away with sleep-clumsy fingers. Then, seeing him staring back at her, his strange, almost sarcastic smile on his face, her eyes lit up and she scrambled out of her chair, only to collapse onto the ground when her legs (which had fallen asleep) betrayed her. Cursing in fluent Gaelic she sat up next to the bed and reached forward to grasp one of his hands in hers, tears of joy trickling from her eyes.

"You're awake!" she whispered. Her voice was hoarse from yelling and smoke inhalation. But he guessed his was no better.

"Obviously," he said, in his traditional manner. Merlin's receding hairline, his voice was worse than hers!

She smile, gripping his hand more firmly. "There was a time when it wasn't so obvious," she whispered, not wanting to wake any of the wounded students. "For a few hours we were sure you weren't going to make it. It took Madame Pomfrey, Madame Hooch and Dumbledore all together to make sure you didn't die. Then Albus went and collapsed. We thought Minerva was going to kill someone when that happened."

"So Albus made it through, did he?"

Eowyn nodded.

"And what about you? What were you doing while I was being attacked by an uppity grass snake?"

"Trying not to die," she said simply. "I tell you, children set out to get themselves killed." Then suddenly she seemed to lose all sense of lightness. When she spoke her voice was so quiet he had to strain to catch it, even in the silence. "I was so afraid you'd die. I ... I was sitting outside the door ... waiting. And ... I suddenly realised ... I didn't know what I would do if you ... went. I felt like ... lost. I ... I'm just so glad you're alive!"

She suddenly burst into tears and collapsed against the bed, gripping his hand as if it was a lifeline. Severus was generally very uncomfortable around crying people. He tended to turn around and walk in the other direction. But Eowyn was a special case. She almost never cried. And when she did you knew it was something big.

So, using all the strength he had in his blood-drained body he reached forward and ran his hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes and away from her face, tilting it up so he could see her. His neck was screaming in agony and he had a feeling he would regret even that small movement when morning came, but in that moment he could not have cared less.

Running his thumb along her cheek he wiped the tears away in silence, trying to convey in that small movement everything he felt, and had ever felt for her. Her skin was soft. It had always been soft. It had been soft from the first time he had shaken her hand. Merlin, that was years ago. That decided what he was going to say. "When this is all cleared up," he rasped, "we should get married."

She blinked at him. Of all the things she had thought he would say, this had not been it. She had been prepared for sarcastic remarks about Harry Potter's magical prowess to try to cheer her up. She had been prepared for a small lecture in how he could survive Mount Everest falling on top of him. She had even been prepared for loving comfort. Yes, he was getting better as that sort of thing. But this ...

"No is an option by the way," he said, with a small sinking of the heart. He guessed he couldn't blame her if she said no. After all, they had just gone through a whole year of hell.

She suddenly realised that her stunned silence was only serving to make him unsure. "You think I'd say no?" she asked.

"Well your face looked as though you'd swallowed Veritaserum with extra vinegar," he pointed out.

"My face is misleading," she said with a smile.

"Do I take that as a yes?"

"Of course. But 'when this is all over' as you put it, you've got to do it properly."

"With the kneeling?"

"Yup."

"And the ring?"

"Definitely."

"Well, I guess it'll be one of the many loopholes we'll have to go through. Your sister will want to be in charge of everything. But we can't let that happen. And Albus and Minerva will probably want us to move into a cottage so that we don't poison the minds of innocent young students. But -"

"Severus."

"What?"

She was trying not to laugh. He could see it. "Severus, you're lying in a bed recovering from a poisonous snake bit to the neck. Two hours ago your chances of life were zero point zero two. And you're already planning out our future."

Severus frowned. "Well you're obviously not one to do it!"

She laughed softly at that. "Severus. The war is over. Voldemort is dead. The Death Eaters are disbanded. You can stop worrying about the future. Things will happen that we aren't prepared for. There will be problems and hitches and people trying to land you in Azkaban for life. But whatever happens, one thing is certain. I'll be there. Whether we get married in a tool shed or St Paul's Cathedral or if we don't get married at all (though my sister won't like that) I'll be there. So stop worrying and get some sleep."

"Why should I want sleep?" The truth was that he was exhausted. Mind and body cried out for sleep in unity. But, much as he wanted to slip into sweet, blissful oblivion, despite the fact that pain coursed through his body at his every move, this moment was special. She was here in this moment with him. And to him she had never looked more beautiful.

"Because at the end of the story the hero always sleeps after his final battle," said Eowyn with a smile.

"Do the stories say anything about the hero getting a kiss from his girlfriend?" Severus asked.

Eowyn blinked at him, before a smirk played across her features. It was a habit that she had picked up from him and perfected over the years. "Girlfriend?"

"Does fiancee sound better?" he asked sarcastically.

"I thought we agreed on 'inamorata'," she teased, recalling the conversation they had back in 1992, when it had been his mission to find something, _anything_ that he could call her beside a 'girlfriend'. The handy thing about using an Italian word was that the students all thought you were talking about some peculiar new spell. Even the smart ones would never think of Snape as being 'enamoured' with anything.

"The terminology is hardly the point," Severus pointed out.

"If you promise you'll sleep," said Eowyn presently.

"If you promise you'll stay," he countered.

"Why? Can't sleep without me?" she teased, teeth shining in the light of the distant candle as she smiled.

"No. I can't. Do you think I've taken a shine to black eyeliner over the course of this cursed year or something?"

"That thought did cross my mind," said Eowyn, leaning forward.

He hadn't been able to kiss her since the start of this blasted year. They had managed a brief peck in dark corners every now and again but it seemed as if the Carrows had nothing better to do than stalk the Headmaster. Quite a few times they had nearly been caught and in the end they had given up. It had just been too dangerous. And Eowyn and her friends were too busy making sure that Minerva or Auriga or some headstrong pupil didn't do something stupid.

But now that was all over. Now the Carrows were gone. And as her lips touched his he could not help but remember their first kiss, more than six years ago. It was warm, it was long and he could feel her close to him. He could feel the tangles of her hair. He could feel the softness of her skin. She was here, he thought, as they finally broke apart and leaned their foreheads together. And as long as she stayed, all would be well.

"I love you."

"I love you too, you greasy old bat."

"Hey! No one told me we were trading insults!"

"Just shut up and go to sleep."

"What happened to you staying?"

"I told you, I'll always stay."

oo0oo

So it was that, three hours later, just as the first rays of sun were beginning to trickle through closed curtains, Poppy Pomfrey found the two of them lying together in the patient's bed. Instinct born of many long years working as a disciplined nurse told her to drag Eowyn out by her hair and give her the scolding of her life. But then she realised that the same would probably be true for Minerva and Albus and that she would never dare do that to her best friend so for the sake of equal treatment of patients she instead stood to one side and watched.

It was rather sweet actually (not a word you used to describe Snape every day). Both had their arms wrapped around each other. Severus' one hand caressed her shoulder while the other held her close by the small of her back. Eowyn's hands were both snarled in his tangled black hair and one of her bare feet gently brushed against his. Both held they other so close they were touching. Poppy guessed you needed to share warmth when the blanket was only meant for _one_ person.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Harry from behind her.

"You just be glad that they're fully clothed Mr Potter!" snapped Poppy. "And shush."

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron Weasley from another end of the Hospital Wing.

Poppy rolled her eyes as Albus voice said, "Wake up dear. Happy Embarrassing Relationship Revelations Day!"

As one, Severus, Eowyn and Minerva all groaned loudly.

 **I was going to kill Dumbledore ... but then I just couldn't. Yes, yes, yes I'm an old softy! First, I'd like to apologise for my long silence. I just got a job upgrade (YAY!) which incorporates enough work to break a mamoth's back (bleeping bleep!). So I decided I needed to wrap up this fic nicely. Yes, I know I skipped a load of years. But still, happy ending! I want to thank all the people who have favourited, followed and reviewed. Love you guys! :)**


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